DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 


By  AGNES  AND  EGERTON  CASTLE 

IF  YOUTH  BUT  KNEW 
ROSE  OF  THE  WORLD 
THE  HEART  of  LADY  ANNE 
THE  STAR  DREAMER 
THE  PRIDE  OF  JENNICO 
THE  SECRET  ORCHARD 
THE  BATH  COMEDY 
THE  HOUSE  OF  ROMANCE 
MY  MERRY  ROCKHURST 
FLOWER  O'  THE  ORANGE 
INCOMPARABLE  BELLAIRS 
WROTH  :  :  :  :  : 


By  EGERTON  CASTLE 

YOUNG  APRIL 

THE  LIGHT  OF  SCARTHEY 
CONSEQUENCES 
MARSHFIELD^OBSERVER 


SCHOOLS  AND  MASTERS 
OF  FENCE  .  ENGLISH 
BOOK-PLATES  .  THE 
JERNINGHAM  LETTERS 
LE  ROMAN  DU  PRINCE 
OTHON  :::::: 


'YOU    CALL    YOURSELF    MY    NIECE,    DO    YOU?     DO    YOU 
EXPECT  ME  TO  KISS  YOU?"       (Page  1.56) 


DIAMONDS  CUT  PASTE 

BY 
AGNES  &  EGERTON  CASTLE 

Authors  of  "Rose  of  the  World,"  "  Wroth,"  "The 

Pride  of  Jennico,"  "Incomparable  Bellalrs," 

"Young  April,"  etc. 


"Diamonds  cut  diamonds" 

The  Lover's  Melancholy — FORD 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW    YORK 

DODD,  MEAD   &   COMPANY 
1909 


Copyright,  1908,  1909,  by 

DODD.  MEAD  &  COMPANY 

Published,  September,  1909 


CONTENTS 

BOOK    I 
THE   STORY   OF   A   DAY 


BOOK    II 
A    WEEK'S     CHRONICLE 119 

BOOK    III 
ONE  NIGHT 277 


2228366 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

"  You  call  yourself  my  niece,  do  you?     Do 

you  expect  me  to  kiss  you?"      .      .     Frontispiece 

She  rose  and  went  to  her  writing  table  Facing  page       8 

The  taper  fingers  picked  off — a  long 

golden  hair Facing  page     64 

"  There's  just  one  thing  to  do — I  must 
take  you  right  away,  and  as  soon 
as  possible  marry  you  "  .  .  Facing  page  346 


BOOK    I 
THE      STORY     OF    A     DAY 


LADY  GEKTRFDE  ESDALE  rose  from  the  low  chair 
in  which  she  had  been  desultorily  perusing  the  Morn- 
ing Post,  and  faced  her  visitors  with  an  air  of  expect- 
ancy which  quickly  changed  to  one  of  supreme 
astonishment. 

"  Mamma — and  Flo !     This  is  a  surprise." 

"  Quite  a  surprise,"  confirmed  the  Dowager  in  her 
uncompromising  bass.  She  paused  in  the  middle 
of  the  room,  waiting  with  a  portentous  air  till  the 
footman  should  have  closed  the  door.  "  We  came  in 
a  meter — a  street  meter,"  she  then  announced,  and 
made  an  irritable  attempt  to  free  her  fine  old  head 
and  her  close  bonnet  from  the  anomalous  wrappings. 

"  We  motored  down  in  a  taximeter,  dear  mamma 
means,"  amended  her  companion. 

"  Motored?     Mamma — never !  " 

If  anything  had  been  further  needed  to  point  to 
the  extraordinary  momentousness  of  the  occasion, 
this  announcement  would  have  completed  it.  The 
Countess  of  Enniscorthy  in  a  motor!  It  had  not 
been  a  thing  even  to  dream  of;  it  was  Middle  Victo- 
rian tradition  in  the  car  of  progress ! 

"  Allow  me,  mamma,"  said  Lady  Florence.  Lady 
Florence  Jamieson  was  the  assiduous  eldest  daughter, 
who,  since  her  own  widowhood,  had  never  left  her 
mother's  side.  Her  filial  devotion  had  become  almost 
proverbial.  It  was  resented  by  the  other  daughters 


4         DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

as  excessive,  irritating,  and  an  encroachment  upon 
their  rights. 

Lady  Gertrude  had  a  little  private  smile  at  the 
tartness  with  which  Lady  Enniscorthy  responded, 
waving  the  hovering  hand  away  from  the  veil  knotted 
under  her  determined  chin. 

"  Allow  me,  Florence.     I  am  not  helpless — yet." 

She  flung  the  chiffon  from  her  energetically  as  she 
spoke;  while,  nothing  daunted,  Lady  Florence  in- 
stantly provided  footstool  and  cushion  to  the  chair 
into  which  the  Dowager  had  deposited  herself.  The 
latter  further  asserted  her  independence  by  pushing 
the  stool  away  with  a  little  kick.  Her  foot  was 
encased  in  a  boot  of  black  satin,  flat-soled,  toe- 
capped,  elastic-sided ;  which  almost  pathetic  remnant 
of  bygone  fashion  could  not  disguise  its  small 
and  shapely  proportions. 

The  old  Countess  of  Enniscorthy  might  have 
copied  with  impunity  the  pretty  audacity  of  the 
lady  who,  expecting  the  visit  of  an  admirer  of  her 
youth,  received  him  veiled  and  enwrapped,  lying  on 
a  sofa,  with  only  her  little  feet  in  dainty  shoes 
propped  up  on  a  cushion  visible  to  his  gaze — all 
that  he  should  ever  behold  of  her  again,  all  that  was 
left  intact  of  her  bygone  beauty,  she  averred.  Not 
that  there  was  not  much  that  was  beautiful  in  the 
old  age  of  Lady  Enniscorthy;  all,  indeed,  was  strik- 
ing. A  piercing,  hazel-grey  eye  under  an  arched 
eyebrow  of  sable  hue  and  fine  aristocracy  of  line 
that  years  could  never  touch;  iron-grey  hair  that 
had  once  been  dense  black,  with  the  crisp  wave  in  it 


THE     STORY     OF    A     DAY          5 

that  such  luxuriance  of  growth  never  loses ;  a  beak 
of  nose  that  the  prominent  chin  fully  matched ;  and, 
between,  lips  set  with  a  determination  that  impressed 
before  their  chiselled  curve  could  be  noticed — faded 
lips  now,  and  trembling  a  little  at  times  with  the 
weakness  of  senility,  which  is  all  the  more  piteous 
in  the  strong-willed.  They  must  have  been  glorious 
lips  when  young  blood  coloured  them  and  young 
smiles  parted  them.  But  the  nose  remained,  no 
doubt,  the  most  imposing  feature  of  her  face.  A 
peccant  maid  of  hers  was  once  heard  to  observe: 

"  When  her  ladyship  looks  at  me  with  that  nose, 
I  could  sink  into  the  earth ! " 

Lady  Gertrude  noted  its  stern  hook  to-day,  and 
her  heart  slightly  sank. 

"  Mamma  is  certainly  very  angry  about  some- 
thing," she  thought,  and  searched  through  her  mind 
in  vain  for  peccadilloes.  She  glanced  questioningly 
at  Lady  Florence.  The  latter  returned  the  look  with 
one  full  of  compassion  and  sorrow. 

"  Gertrude,  dearest,  it's  quite  true.  Dear  mamma 
sent  for  a  taximeter  because  she  wanted  to  come  to 
you  without  a  minute's  delay.  Dear  mamma;  she 
must  be  terribly  shaken !  Perhaps  she  ought  to  have 
taken  a  glass  of  sherry  and  a  biscuit  first?  " 

"  Pray  allow  me  to  speak  for  myself !  "  interposed 
dear  mamma.  "  Sit  down,  Florence,  you  fuss  ter- 
ribly. Sit  down  you,  too,  Gertrude.  Yes,  I  have 
something  serious  to  say  to  you:  you  may  imagine 
it  is  not  for  nothing  that  I  have  come  all  the  way 
from  London  to  Windsor  in  that  insane  machine 


6         DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

.  .  .  which  certainly  has  the  advantage  of  ra- 
pidity. Though  I  don't  know,"  she  added,  with  a 
small  acid  laugh,  "  considering  the  quickness  with 
which  bad  news  travels,  that  it  is  such  an  advantage 
to  receive  them  an  hour  or  so  in  advance." 

"Bad  news?"  echoed  Lady  Gertrude  quickly. 
"  Has  anything  happened  to  Reginald?  " 

"  He  is  quite  well,  I  believe,"  said  Lady  Ennis- 
corthy,  her  keen  eye  on  her  daughter's  paling  cheek. 
"  As  to  anything  happening  to  him,  I  wonder  what 
you  expected  when  you  abandoned  him  in  India  ?  " 

"  Oh,  dear  mamma,"  said  Lady  Gertrude,  with  the 
natural  irritation  of  reaction,  while  the  fine  bloom  of 
her  complexion  returned  intensified,  "  need  we  go 
over  that  old  ground  again?  " 

"  We  must,"  said  her  mother  solemnly.  And  Lady 
Florence  affirmed  this  statement  with  a  deep  sigh. 

"  Are  you  aware,"  proceeded  the  Dowager,  "  that 
the  Invicta  arrived  this  morning  at  eight  o'clock  at 
Southampton  and  that  Ernest  was  with  his  mother 
by  half-past  eleven  ?  " 

Lady  Gertrude  glanced  at  the  chimney-piece 
clock ;  it  was  half-past  one. 

"  I  am  sure  it  was  very  kind  of  Florence,"  she  said 
absently,  "  to  tear  herself  away  from  her  boy's  em- 
braces— I  hope  he  is  well,  and  Coralie  too?  " 

"  I  could  not  let  mamma  come  alone."  Lady 
Florence  Jamieson  hesitated,  her  eye  on  the  Dow- 
ager. "  Mamma  thought  it  very  urgent  that  you 
should  be  informed  of  everything." 

"  Gertrude,"   said  Lady   Enniscorthy,  "  where  is 


THE     STORY    OF    A    DAY          7 

Reginald?  Yes,  I  know  he  has  not  arrived.  The 
footman  has  told  me  so — I  suppose  your  butler  is 
out,  but  I  think  that  after  one  o'clock  both  servants 
should  attend  the  door. — Where  is  Reginald,  Ger- 
trude; and  why  is  he  not  with  you?  " 

"  Dear  me,  mamma,  I  suppose  he's  waiting  for  a 
convenient  train.  I  daresay  he  has  a  lot  of  business 
to  see  to  in  London.  I  got  a  wire  from  Southamp- 
ton this  morning." 

Lady  Gertrude  rose  and  went  to  her  writing-table. 
A  tall  woman,  long-limbed,  moving  with  invariable 
slow  grace ;  grande  dame  from  the  top  of  her  rippled 
black  head  to  the  tip  of  her  well-shod  foot.  Her 
mother's  glance  followed  her  approvingly. 

"  Ah,  here  it  is :  *  Arrived  safely.  Shall  be  with 
you  earliest  possible  moment.' ' 

"  And  he  is  not  here  yet,"  said  Lady  Enniscorthy. 

"  I  think  Gertrude  ought  at  least  to  have  gone  to 
meet  him,"  sighed  Lady  Florence.  Her  handsome 
brown  eyes  uplifted  themselves  with  a  look  in  which 
piety  and  sorrow  were  mixed.  When  she  had  had 
the  privilege  of  wifehood,  her  ideas  of  its  duties  had 
been  far  other. 

"  I  do  not  like  platform  emotion,"  said  Lady  Ger- 
trude placidly.  "  And  Reginald,  dear  Reginald,  is 
emotional." 

"  Yes,  Gertrude,"  said  Lady  Enniscorthy,  "  Regi- 
nald has  a  peculiarly  emotional  temperament." 

The  tone  in  which  she  spoke,  the  look  which  the 
speaker  exchanged  with  her  widowed  daughter,  and 
the  silence  which  immediately  ensued  were  all  preg- 


8          DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

nant.  If  self-control  and  intrinsic  smoothness  of 
disposition  had  not  been  Lady  Gertrude's  peculiar 
gifts,  she  must  have  found  the  situation  exasperating 
beyond  concealment. 

The  Countess  Dowager  of  Enniscorthy — she  pre- 
ferred to  be  thus  addressed,  although  she  was  now 
once  again  sole  bearer  of  the  title,  the  intervening 
peeress  having  had  but  a  brief  reign,  and  the  present 
male  owner  of  the  family  honours  being  too  young  to 
have  got  him  a  wife — was,  and  had  always  been,  mag- 
nificent in  all  her  relations  with  life.  Yet  in  one  thing 
she  had  proved  a  failure,  and  the  bitterness  of  that 
failure  had  shadowed  the  best  part  of  her  existence. 
She  had  (to  use  her  own  expression)  brought  "  only 
women,  silly  women,"  into  the  world.  Her  three 
daughters  had,  in  their  sensitive,  childish  days,  car- 
ried between  them  a  consciousness  of  guilt  for  their 
sex  for  which  it  seemed  as  if  they  could  never  suffi- 
ciently apologise  to  their  mother.  Mamma  could 
scarcely  have  been  at  fault ;  the  weakness  must  have 
been  theirs.  Well  past  youth  themselves  now,  they 
still  became  as  children  again  before  their  parent, 
receiving  with  reverence  the  affection  tempered  with 
contempt  she  bestowed  upon  them. 

Lady  Gertrude,  however,  youngest  and  fairest  of 
the  trio,  most  resembled  her  mother  in  strength  of 
character;  and  she  had,  in  several  instances,  openly 
carried  out  her  own  way  in  spite  of  maternal  remon- 
strance. 

The   second   daughter    (Lady    Challoner,   «  poor 


THE     STORY     OF    A     DAY          9 

Jane"),  upon  the  other  hand,  was  as  incapable  of 
being  moulded  into  any  kind  of  shape  and  as  hope- 
lessly deliquescent  as  an  overwarmed  jelly.  The  fool 
of  the  family,  she  had  espoused,  late  in  life,  the  most 
unattractive  peer  in  the  realm.  The  Dowager  had 
long  given  up  endeavouring  to  guide,  and  was  con- 
tent to  snub  her.  Lord  Challoner  himself  had  an 
iron  will,  but  "  poor  Jane  "  ran  out  of  the  mould 
persistently. 

Lady  Florence,  the  eldest,  was  (as  her  sisters  con- 
fided to  each  other)  deep,  not  to  say  sly.  They  could 
not  be  made  to  believe  that  her  obtrusive  devotion  to 
her  mother  sprang  solely  from  filial  affection.  Per- 
haps the  Dowager  did  not  think  so  herself;  she 
treated  her  something  like  a  paid  companion,  yet  had 
a  curious  dependence  on  her.  She  ground  her,  as  the 
phrase  goes,  but  could  not  get  on  without  her. 

Lady  Gertrude,  the  open  rebel,  was  undoubtedly 
her  mother's  favourite.  But  with  Lady  Enniscorthy 
partiality  did  not  imply  weakness.  She  was  nearly 
as  severe  with  her  best-loved  daughter  as  with  Lady 
Florence.  And  Gertrude  Esdale's  chief  act  of  re- 
bellion, and  its  consequences,  being  now  under  dis- 
cussion, there  was  no  relenting  towards  her  in  the 
maternal  mind. 

"  Reginald's  peculiarly  emotional  temperament." 
On  this  phrase  the  Dowager  had  paused,  and  the 
silence  was  charged  with  the  weight  of  an  often  re- 
peated condemnation  combined  with  a  new  triumph. 

"  What  did  I  tell  you  ?  "  she  proceeded  at  length, 


10        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

in  her  deep  voice.  "  What  did  I  write  to  you  in  India 
when  I  first  heard  of  your  insane  decision?  What 
did  I  say  to  you  over  and  over  again? — You  have 
abandoned  your  husband,  my  dear,  and  now  you 
must  face  the  consequences." 

"  Dear  mamma,  you  know  I  saw  my  duty  other- 
wise. Reginald  could  get  on  without  me.  The  child 
could  not." 

Lady  Gertrude  spoke  with  a  patient  weariness  of 
argument  so  reiterated  that  it  had  lost  all  colour. 

"  I  could  have  looked  after  Norah,"  said  Lady 
Enniscorthy. 

Her  terrible  nose  took  a  fiercer  hook;  her  lips 
tightened  as  she  uttered  the  words,  to  which  Lady 
Gertrude  made  no  response.  That  silence  of  Ger- 
trude's, expressive  of  a  complete  divergence  of  opin- 
ion which  filial  respect  would  not  allow  her  to  emit, 
was  one  of  her  many  aggravating  ways. 

"  You  must  face  the  consequences,"  repeated  her 
mother  now,  in  truly  awful  tones. 

Lady  Florence  sighed. 

"  It  would  save  time,"  said  Gertrude,  turning 
rather  sharply  on  her,  "  if  you  would  give  these  con- 
sequences a  name." 

Before  the  latter  could  reply,  Lady  Enniscorthy 
delivered  herself: 

"Another  woman " 

The  wife  broke  into  frank  laughter — the  laughter 
of  relief,  of  amusement. 

"  Oh,  my  dear  mamma,  I'm  afraid,  after  all  these 
years,  you  can't  frighten  me  with  such  a  bogey. 
Why,  my  poor  Reginald  has  had  his  little  flirtations 


THE     STORY     OF     A     DAY        11 

since  the  first  day  of  our  honeymoon.  Thank  good- 
ness, they're  as  innocent  as  he  is  himself,  and  as  nu- 
merous as  the  hairs  on  his  head.  I  devoutly  trust  he 
has  not  lost  his  nice  curly  locks  in  the  three  years 
since  I  have  seen  him." 

"  Three  years,  indeed,  since  you  last  met,"  said  her 
mother,  "  seven,  since  you  left  him  to  his  own  de- 
vices. I  am  afraid,  Gertrude,  you  will  find  that  he 
has  lost  something  more  important  than  his  hair, 
something  you  will  never  be  able  to  regain." 

"  Do  you  mean  his  heart?  "  asked  Lady  Gertrude, 
looking  down,  and  smoothing  the  folds  of  her  pretty 
morning  gown  with  two  ivory  taper  fingers — she  had 
the  most  beautiful  hands  in  all  the  world.  But  her 
gentle  voice  could  not  conceal  the  upward  twitch  of 
her  lips.  The  thought  of  Sir  Reginald's  heart  seemed 
to  be  rather  a  joke  to  her. 

"  I  mean,"  said  the  old  lady,  "  his  sense  of  conju- 
gal obligation." 

Lady  Gertrude  raised  her  violet-grey  eyes  with  a 
sudden  flicker  of  the  usually  placid  eyelids. 

"  And  when  a  man  loses  that,  my  dear,"  the  mother 
went  on,  "  it  is  not  a  woman  of  over  forty  who  will 
bring  it  back."  Relentlessly  the  grating  tones  pro- 
ceeded :  "  The  institution  of  marriage  which  has 
been  ordained  to  consecrate  the  affections,  to 
strengthen  the  family  ties,  begins  and  ends  with  the 
obligation  solemnly  undertaken  that  husband  and 
wife  should  cleave  together " 

"  But,  my  dear  mamma,  half  the  husbands  and 
wives  of  the  world  are  separated  by  sheer  force  of 
other  duties." 


12        DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

"  The  wife's  first  duty  is  to  her  husband ;  if  she 
voluntarily  leaves  him  she  has  failed  in  her  marriage 
vow.  A  man  very  soon  gets  into  the  fatal  habit  of 
doing  without  his  wife.  He  learns  first  to  do  for 
himself;  and  by-and-by  he  finds  it  more  convenient 
to  have  someone  else  to  do  for  him.  He  finds  it  is 
more  agreeable  than  being  alone;  sometimes  he  finds 
the  substitutes  more  agreeable  than  his  lawful  com- 
panion." 

"  Mamma ! " 

"  Substitutes  take  care  to  make  themselves  emi- 
nently agreeable;  all  that  is  given  them,  all  that 
they  give,  has  the  charm  of  not  being  obligatory. 
They  can  be  changed  at  will ;  they  can  be  chosen 
young  and  lovely.  When  men  are  getting  rather 
elderly,  Gertrude,  they  are  peculiarly  susceptible  to 
the  charm  of  youth,  and  peculiarly  flattered  that  they 
should  still  be  reckoned  as  men  who  count  with  very 
young  women." 

"  Is  this  dissertation,  dear  mamma,  meant  to  break 
to  me  the  news  that  Reginald  has  found  .  .  . 
substitutes  during  my  absence  ?  " 

Gertrude  folded  her  hands  as  she  spoke.  She  was 
determined  to  smile,  but  could  not  keep  a  hint  of 
bitterness  either  from  lip  or  voice. 

"  Reginald  has  found  something  infinitely  more 
dangerous — a  substitute." 

"  The  consequences "  murmured  Lady  Ger- 
trude to  herself.  "  Once  again,  the  name,  dear 
mamma?  " 

"  Florence,"  ordered  the  Dowager,  "  the  name." 


THE    STORY    OF    A    DAY        13 

"  A  Mrs.  Lancelot,"  sighed  Lady  Florence. 

"  Have  you  heard  of  her?  "  sepulchrally  demanded 
Lady  Enniscorthy  of  her  youngest  daughter. 

This  latter  drew  her  arched  brows  in  the  effort  of 
thought.  Her  face  assumed  an  expression  singularly 
like  her  mother's. 

"Mrs.  Lancelot?  I  remember  vaguely — yes — he 
did  speak  of  her  once.  A  pretty  little  widow,  Mrs. 
Lancelot,  who  was  very  kind  to  him  when  he  had  his 
attack  of  fever  about  a  year  ago;  but  he  has  not 
mentioned  her  since." 

Once  more  Lady  Enniscorthy  and  the  widow  inter- 
changed glances.  He  had  not  mentioned  her  for  a 
year.  Could  anything  be  more  marked? 

"  That  is  the  business  which  is  keeping  your  hus- 
band from  coming  straight  to  his  home,"  said  the 
Dowager. 

As  she  spoke  the  door  opened  and  the  butler  made 
his  appearance,  bearing  a  telegram  on  a  tray,  which 
he  presented  with  the  words : 

"  Luncheon  is  served,  my  lady." 

Lady  Gertrude  waited  characteristically  a  second 
or  two  before  opening  the  orange  envelope.  When 
she  looked  up  at  last  from  the  sheet,  her  face  re- 
tained its  charming  serenity;  yet  there  was  a  subtle 
change  upon  it. 

61  It  is  from  Reginald,"  she  said,  and  proceeded 
to  read  aloud :  "  *  Unavoidably  detained  till  even- 
ing. Important  War  Office  business. — REGINALD.'  ' 

"  Do  you  believe  in  this  important  business  ?  " 
asked  her  mother  with  a  sneer. 


14        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

"  No,"  answered  Gertrude  thoughtfully. 

She  paused,  and  the  maddening  sigh  of  Lady 
Florence  filled  the  interval.  Gertrude  turned  upon 
her. 

"  I  suppose,"  she  said,  "  this  is  Coralie's  gossip?  " 

"  Both  Ernest  and  Coralie  spoke  openly  of  the 
matter,"  answered  Lady  Florence. 

As  usual,  the  old  lady  was  ready  with  her  em- 
phatic interpolation. 

"  It  is,  I  fear,  a  matter  that  has  gone  beyond 
mere — gossip." 

Again  Gertrude  remained  thoughtful.  A  third 
time  she  consulted  the  telegram.  Then: 

"  Florence,"  she  said,  "  would  you  mind  taking 
dear  mamma  in  to  lunch?  I  shall  join  you  in  a 
minute  or  two.  I  am  thinking,"  she  added  explana- 
torily to  the  Dowager,  "  of  telephoning  to  beg  Ernest 
— or  Coralie,  or  both,  if  possible — to  come  to  me  at 
once.  I  suppose  I  might  catch  Ernest  at  his  club, 
or  Coralie  in  Park  Lane." 

"  You'll  certainly  catch  Coralie,"  said  Lady 
Florence ;  "  but  she  said  she  was  going  to  have  " 
— here  she  smiled  plaintively — "  a  real,  good,  tight 
beauty  sleep  after  her  journey." 

"  She  won't  mind  interrupting  it,  I'm  sure,  for 
me,"  said  Gertrude. 

At  any  other  time  she  would  have  bantered  her 
sister  on  the  tone  of  depression  in  which  she  re- 
peated the  innocent  remark.  Lady  Florence  was 
eminently  blessed  in  her  son's  choice,  and,  in  her 
own  peculiarly  saintly  way,  exasperatingly  resigned 


THE     STORY     OF     A     DAY        15 

to  the  prettiest,  sweetest,  American  daughter-in-law 
in  all  the  world. 

Lady  Enniscorthy  hoisted  herself  out  of  her  chair, 
and  stood  looking  with  a  certain  pride  at  her  young- 
est daughter. 

"  I  could  not  possibly  say  where  Ernest  was,"  pro- 
ceeded Florence  unwillingly. 

She  was  of  those  who  regard  their  children  as  so 
exclusively  their  property  that  it  becomes  a  griev- 
ance when  anyone  else  attempts  to  make  use  of  them, 
even  for  the  smallest  service. 

"  Florence,"  said  her  mother  snubbingly,  "  you 
spend  your  life  in  inventing  difficulties.  Coralie  will 
know  where  Ernest  is ;  it  is  much  better  that  they 
should  both  come  and  give  their  report,  since  Ger- 
trude requires  so  much  convincing.  Take  me  in  and 
give  me  my  lunch.  I  hope  there  is  something  I  can 
eat,  Gertrude." 

"  Dear  mamma,  I  hope  there  is,"  said  the  mistress 
of  the  house  sweetly,  as  with  leisurely  step  she  moved 
to  the  morning-room,  where  was  installed  the  tele- 
phone. On  her  way  she  paused  to  ring  and  give  an 
order  to  the  servant,  who  promptly  answered  the 
call. 

"  Let  Miss  Norah  know  that,  as  Sir  Reginald  will 
not  be  able  to  be  with  us  before  evening,  I  wish 
her,  therefore,  to  attend  her  drawing-class  as  usual. 
And,  Barker,  order  the  car  to  be  round  for  her  at 
two  o'clock." 


II 

ORANGE  COURT  is  a  pleasant  Georgian  house  with 
an  outlook  on  Windsor  Park.  Lady  Gertrude  had 
chosen  it  for  her  one  precious  child  as  combining  all 
the  advantages  of  town  and  country.  The  girl  could 
attend  occasional  classes,  lectures  and  concerts,  and 
be  visited  by  the  best  masters,  without  losing  the 
benefit  of  fresh  air. 

The  spacious  rooms,  opening  on  gardens  that 
almost  ran  into  the  Park,  were  charming  without 
being  magnificent.  An  excellent  but  reserved  taste 
had  presided  everywhere;  there  was  more  comfort 
than  grandeur,  more  refinement  than  expensiveness. 
The  only  hint  of  extravagance  was  in  the  flowers, 
which  were  lavish  within  doors  as  well  as  without. 
For  the  rest,  all  was  pretty,  "  chintzy,"  and  fresh, 
with  some  cabinets  of  fine  china,  a  few  good  pic- 
tures, and  a  general  scheme  of  furniture  that  should 
harmonise  with  the  delicate  Adam  decoration — the 
distinctive  cachet  of  the  house. 

The  whole  place  had  never  looked  more  attractive 
than  on  this  brisk  June  day ;  and  Lady  Gertrude, 
as  she  sat  waiting  for  "  Trunks,"  let  her  eye  wander 
through  the  open  door  into  the  harmonious  vista 
beyond,  with,  for  all  her  courage,  a  sense  of  sudden 
and  bitter  anger.  .  .  .  Was  her  mother  right, 
indeed?  Were  men  of  such  poor  stuff  that  they 
could  not  endure  the  separation  imposed  by  the 

16 


THE     STORY     OF    A    DAY        17 

most  sacred  maternal  obligation  without  seeking 
undignified  solace?  Was  the  marriage  contract, 
then,  so  frail  a  thing  to  the  average  husband 
that  the  wife  must  needs  keep  constant  watch 
upon  him  to  avert  his  infringing  its  clauses? 
There  had  been  a  very  warm  sense  of  satisfac- 
tion, if  scarcely  rapture,  in  her  heart  this  morning 
at  the  thought  of  her  husband's  return ;  and  there 
was  not  a  bowl  of  sweet  peas,  not  a  single  one  of 
those  slender  glasses  of  roses  that  she  had  not  her- 
self disposed  with  an  eye  to  his  pleasure. 
Mrs.  Lancelot,  a  pretty  little  widow,  her  substi- 
tute! .  .  . 

The  telephone-bell  rang  sharply,  unpleasantly 
arousing  her. 

"Is  this  178  Park  Lane?  Can  I  speak  to  Mrs. 
Jamieson?  Oh!  Can  I  speak  to  her  maid?  Yes; 
I'll  hold  on." 

.  .  .  It  certainly  was  strange  that  Reginald 
had  never  mentioned  Mrs.  Lancelot  again  in  his 
weekly  letters.  Save  for  that  one  casual  reference 
over  a  year  ago,  which  any  less  acute  memory  than 
hers  would  have  failed  to  retain,  he  had  not  written 
her  name ;  and  yet  now  it  was  familiarly  coupled  with 
his — Her  substitute!  .  .  . 

"  Yes.  Is  that  Mrs.  Jamieson's  maid? — Oh,  it's 
you,  my  dear.  My  dear,  I'm  heartbroken  to  disturb 
you,  but  if  you  and  Ernest  could  come  down  to  me 
here  at  once,  it  would  be  a  real  kindness. — No,  Regi- 
nald has  not  made  his  appearance  yet;  but  grand- 
mamma and  your  mother-in-law  are  here." 


18        DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

Here  Lady  Gertrude  started  and  rubbed  her  ear, 
for  the  recipient  of  this  news  at  the  other  end  had 
given  a  whistle  which,  if  expressive  of  thorough  un- 
derstanding, was  somewhat  too  piercingly  conveyed 
along  the  wires. 

"What?  You'll  come?  You  and  Ernest?  At 
once?  That's  right;  thank  you." 

Lady  Gertrude  hung  up  the  receiver  quickly.  De- 
liberately composed  as  she  was,  any  further  remarks 
or  confidences  just  then  would  have  intensified  the 
galling  discomfort  of  her  position.  She  went  into 
the  dining-room  without  giving  herself  leisure  for 
reflection. 

Here  she  found  the  Dowager  somewhat  peevish 
over  the  absence  of  potash-water  and  the  oddity  of 
her  daughter  preferring  Irish  whisky  to  Scotch.  Be- 
fore Lady  Gertrude  had  had  time  to  help  herself  to 
a  cutlet,  Lady  Enniscorthy  passed  on  to  another 
grievance — a  grievance  that  lost  no  savour  for  being 
again  an  old  one. 

"  I  see,"  she  said,  casting  a  severe  look  around  the 
table,  "  that  you  adhere  to  your  ridiculous  arrange- 
ment of  banishing  Norah  to  the  schoolroom  for  her 
meals,  as  if  she  were  still  fed  on  pap  and  couldn't 
behave  herself  at  table.  I  wonder  " — with  an  acid 
laugh — "  how  you  reconcile  this  regulation  with 
your  theory  of  maternal  education.  You  left 
your  husband,  we  understand,  to  be  with  your 
child." 

"  I  used  to  make  it  a  rule,"  insinuated  Lady  Flor- 
ence, "  to  have  Ernest  down  at  lunch  from  his  second 


THE     STORY     OF     A     DAY        19 

birthday.  It  was  one  of  the  precious  hours  of  the 
day- 

"  Norah  dines  with  me,"  interrupted  Lady  Ger- 
trude ;  "  we  find  it  fits  in  better  with  the  lessons ; 
and  then  we  are  not  troubled  by  Fraulein's  presence, 
and  I  too  have  a  precious  hour,  Florence.  Dear 
mamma,  you  know  how  it  is  here  at  Windsor ;  people 
always  dropping  in  to  lunch;  it  unsettled  the  child, 
interfered  fatally  with  the  hours  of  classes  and  all 
the  rest  of  it.  Norah " 

The  door  was  thrown  open  upon  the  name,  and 
the  owner  of  it  sprang  into  the  room  with  less  de- 
corum than  might  have  been  expected  from  a  young 
lady  whose  upbringing  was  so  systematically  con- 
ducted. 

"  Upon  my  word,"  said  Lady  Enniscorthy,  "  one 
would  think  the  house  were  on  fire ! " 

But  her  hawk-eye  softened  indescribably  as  it 
rested  on  the  radiant  vision  of  youth  that  had  so 
tempestuously  presented  itself.  That  was  the  first 
impression  that  Norah  Esdale  invariably  produced — 
youth;  extraordinary  freshness  and  vitality.  She 
was  ruthlessly  young;  her  personality  met  one  with 
a  dash,  as  of  a  mid-sea  wave  or  the  slap  of  a  spring 
wind.  She  seemed  to  give  out  sunshine,  to  move  in 
an  atmosphere  of  her  own,  all  breeze  and  gaiety  and 
careless  strength — an  embodiment  of  April.  She 
took  heart  and  eye  by  storm;  and  it  was  only  after 
a  while  that  one  saw  how  irregular  was  the  charming 
face ;  saw  that  the  figure  was  too  slim  for  its  height ; 
that  its  movements  were  as  brusque  and  awkward 


20        DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

as  a  puppy's.  Many  wondered  how  the  serene, 
slow-moving,  eminently  smooth-mannered,  low-voiced 
mother  could  have  produced  this  impetuous  creature. 
People  commented  with  smiles  on  the  results  of  dear 
Lady  Gertrude's  system.  But  what  mattered  it? 
Who  could  have  wanted  Norah's  nose  to  be  other 
than  tip-tilted,  her  mouth  less  widely  curved  over 
those  dazzling1  teeth?  Who  could  have  wished  her 
hair  less  ruddy?  Who  could  have  endured  to  see  it 
sleeked  down,  when  its  luxuriance  ran  to  such  irre- 
sistible curls  and  misty  tendrils?  Her  laugh  was 
infectious,  her  tempers  fascinating,  her  sallies  ador- 
able, her  awkwardness,  her  immaturity,  the  grace  of 
youth  itself.  And  through  her  eyes,  under  those 
marked  and  arched  black  brows — the  family  trait 
which  in  her  was  so  rare  a  beauty  contrasted  with 
the  chestnut  head — the  frankest  and  most  innocent 
soul  that  girl  ever  owned  looked  out  upon  the 
world.  The  eyes  were  green.  Lady  Florence  was 
alone  to  lament  it. 

Before  even  the  impatient  hand  had  dashed  open 
the  door,  Norah's  voice  had  been  uplifted  in  no  sub- 
dued accents. 

"  Mamma — Mamma,  mayn't  I  chuck  that  bally  old 
studio  this  afternoon,  since  I  was  to  have  given  it 
up  anyhow  for  father?  Cousin  Enn  wants  me  to  go 
for  a  spin  with  him.  Mayn't  I  go?  Please, 
please " 

"  Norah,  don't  you  see  your  grandmother?  " 

"  Oh,  grannie  darling !  " 

The  long  legs  took  two  leaps ;  and  the  awe-in- 


THE     STORY     OF     A     DAY        21 

spiring  Dowager  was  assaulted  by  her  granddaugh- 
ter's embrace ;  the  Middle  Victorian  bonnet  was 
knocked  crooked  on  the  majestic  old  head.  Lady 
Florence,  with  a  cry  of  horror,  just  saved  the  de- 
spised glass  of  soda  water  and  Irish  whisky;  a  re- 
buke of  unusual  tartness  was  driven  from  her  meek 
lips: 

"  Norah — you  are  impossible !  Grandmamma  can- 
not be  treated  with  this  roughness." 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  Florence,"  said  grand- 
mamma. "  Gertrude,  your  daughter  is  a  hoyden." 

But  the  little,  trembling,  old,  blue-veined  hands, 
with  their  weight  of  rings,  were  unconsciously  caress- 
ing the  bright  head.  And  grandmamma's  lips  had 
a  smile  which  only  one  being  on  earth  had  now  the 
power  to  call  there. 

"  Grannie — tell  mamma  to  let  me  go.  It  isn't  a 
day  to  be  stuffed  up  in  a  studio — Grannie !  " 

Norah  broke  from  her  grandmother's  clasp  as  im- 
pulsively as  she  had  sought  it  and  reared  her  slender- 
ness,  all  tense  and  quivering  with  impatience. 
"  Mamma,  cousin  Enn  is  waiting  on  the  telephone." 

"  Norah,"  said  Lady  Gertrude,  "  you  have  not  said 
good-morning  to  your  aunt." 

"  Oh,  how  do  you  do,  Aunt  Florence  ?  " 

The  girl  dropped  an  unwilling  peck  somewhere 
in  the  direction  of  Lady  Florence's  eyebrow,  and, 
standing  erect,  safely  behind  the  widow's  bonnet, 
grimaced  her  frank  objection  to  the  ceremony  and 
to  the  person  concerned. 

"  Mamma " 


22        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

"  Gently,  Norah,  gently !  " 

"What  am  I  to  say  to  Enn?" 

"  You  are  to  tell  him,  my  dear,  that  you  are  due 
at  St.  John's  Wood  at  three  o'clock;  that  you  are 
very  much  obliged  to  him  for  his  kind  thought  of 
you,  and  are  sorry  you  cannot  accept." 

"  Mamma "  protested  Norah  in  high-pitched 

anguish. 

"  I  ordered  the  car  at  two  for  you,  dear,  so  you 
will  have  plenty  of  fresh  air.  Now  go  and  dress. 
You've  had  your  lunch,  I  suppose?  " 

"  One  bite  of  it — a  beastly  loin  chop.  Enn 

said "  In  the  voice  there  was  a  quiver  as  of 

tears,  which  the  bright  eyes  winked  fiercely  back. 
"  Enn  said  he'd  lunch  me  at  Marlow,  where  there's 
ever  such  good  grub — and " 

"  That  will  do,  Norah,  you  know  my  wishes." 

"  Mamma " 

"Not  a  word  more."  Lady  Gertrude's  pleasant 
tones  had  not  lost  one  of  their  musical  inflections. 
On  her  somewhat  statuesque  face  rested  an  air  of 
smiling  inflexibility. 

"  Grannie " 

Norah  had  dragged  herself  to  the  door;  she  now 
wheeled  round  with  a  flounce  of  blue  linen  skirts 
which  gave  a  generous  vision  of  pretty,  thin,  silk- 
stockinged  leg. 

"  Grannie,  you  might  tell  mamma  to  be  nice  to 
me,  for  once !  " 

"  My  dear,"  said  Lady  Enniscorthy,  who  had  as- 
sumed a  sphinx-like  attitude  during  this  dialogue, 


THE     STORY     OF     A     DAY        23 

"  it  is  only  when  daughters  are  young  that  they  are 
supposed  to  obey  their  parents." 

The  child  hesitated  a  second,  met  her  mother's 
steady  glance  and  rushed  from  the  room — with  more 
than  the  suspicion  of  a  slam  of  the  door  behind  her. 

The  three  women  had  a  sudden  sensation  of  gloom, 
as  if  the  sunshine  had  gone,  too.  Yet  it  was  still 
flowing  through  the  wide  French  windows  and  the 
landscape  beyond  lay  bathed  in  unclouded  radiance. 

Lady  Enniscorthy  gave  a  little  fierce  laugh.  Her 
favourite  grandchild's  disappointment  stirred  her 
against  her  daughter  with  a  resentment  scarcely  pro- 
portionate to  the  occasion. 

"  I  congratulate  you,"  she  said,  "  I  congratulate 
you  upon  your  discipline  and  its  results.  Reginald 
will  indeed  be  gratified.  He  will  feel  that  the  sacri- 
fice which  was  imposed  upon  him  has  been  brilliantly 
compensated  for.  Pray,  my  dear  Gertrude — I  am 
an  ignorant  old  woman,  and  find  it  hard  to  keep  pace 
with  the  modern  culture — what  might  *  bally ' 
mean  ?  " 

"  The  child  certainly  does  talk  dreadful  slang," 
lamented  Florence.  She  kept  a  frightened  eye  upon 
her  mother  as  she  spoke ;  it  was  scarcely  safe  for  old 
ladies  to  be  thus  excited. 

Gertrude  Esdale  sat  smiling,  playing  with  the 
strawberries  on  her  plate. 

"  Norah  is  a  little  wild,"  she  conceded  gracefully, 
"  and  she  has  picked  up — as  you  say,  Florence — 
some  silly  slang,  chiefly  from  Enniscorthy.  One  of 
my  reasons,  dear  mamma,  for  not  wishing  them  to  be 


24        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

so  much  together.  But  Norah  is  a  good  child — a 
good,  obedient  child.  And  my  will  is  law  to  her  in 
spite  of  her  little  explosions.  I  have,"  said  Lady 
Gertrude,  "  encouraged  her  to  be  frank  with  me,  and 
she  is  as  loyal  to  me  behind  my  back  as  she  is  out- 
spoken to  my  face." 

"  I  say  I  congratulate  you,"  said  the  grandmother. 

She  rose,  still  tremulously  agitated  from  the  con- 
straint she  was  putting  upon  a  temper  as  flaring 
as  Norah's  own.  "  But  since  the  girl  is  such  a  para- 
gon, I  wonder  you  think  it  necessary  to  thwart  her 
so  persistently." 

"  We  shall  have  coffee  in  the  drawing-room,"  said 
Lady  Gertrude,  pressing  the  electric  button  at  the 
corner  of  the  dinner-table. 

"  Thank  you,  Florence ;  I  am  quite  capable  of 
conveying  myself  as  far  as  the  drawing-room," 
snapped  the  Dowager.  Gertrude's  habit  of  switch- 
ing off  discussion  in  this  final  manner  was,  to  the 
last  degree,  exasperating  to  Lady  Enniscorthy — all 
the  more  so  that  it  was  difficult  to  resent  openly 
without  opposing  temper  to  suavity.  As  usual, 
Florence,  the  souffre-douleur,  came  in  for  the  snub. 

As  the  three  ladies  entered  the  drawing-room  there 
was  a  whirl  of  blue  skirts  in  the  adjoining  morning- 
room  and  the  sound  of  a  closing  door,  soft  enough 
this  time,  which  Lady  Gertrude  was  careful  to  ignore. 
She  guessed  rightly,  that  Norah  had  been  telephoning 
the  recent  decision  to  her  cousin.  Far,  however,  was 
the  confident  mother  from  suspecting  what  had 
passed  along  the  wires. 


THE     STORY     OF     A     DAY        25 

"  Mamma's  perfectly  horrid  this  morning — she 
says  I'm  not  to  go  with  you." 

"  Oh,  I  say ! "  .  .  .  came  an  answering  la- 
ment of  hollow  disgust. 

"  Just  when  papa  put  us  off,  and  everything. 
Enn,  I  am  disappointed." 

"  So  am  I,  ra-ther — I  say,  Norah — this  is  not 
quite  nice  of  cousin  Gertrude." 

"  Beastly " 

"  Ton  my  word  it  is,"  repeated  the  brilliant  con- 
versationalist at  the  other  end  of  the  wire. 

"  And  I  am  to  go  to  the  studio." 

"What?" 

"I  am  to  go  to  that  disgusting  studio  instead." 

"What?" 

"  The  car's  coming  in  two  sees.,  and  I'm  to  be 
stuffed  up  all  the  afternoon  in  St.  John's  Wood." 

"Wha-at?" 

"  Enn,  you're  a  perfect  idiot  1  I  won't  say  it 
again." 

"  I  say,  Norah " — the  accents  from  Windsor, 
which  had  been  dreamily  reflective,  were  now  hurried 
and  excited — "  I  say,  Norah,  cut  the  studio  and 
come  with  me." 

"  Enn- " 

"  Your  mother  needn't  know  till  you're  gone." 

"  What  about  Fraulein?  " 

"  Oh,  Fraulein  zum  Henker "  said  the  guards* 

man  (who  had  passed  in  languages). 

"  Enn " 

"  Hang  it  all,  Norah,  it  would  be  a  crime  to  misa 


26       DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

our  spin  to-day.  Look  here — can't  we  square  Frau- 
lein  ?  Can't  you  square  Fraulein  ?  " 

"  I  might,"  said  Norah  reflectively. 

"  I'll  be  round  in  a  jiffy  " — "  find  you  in  the 
school-room?  " 

"  Hush,  they're  coming !  " 

Before  she  corked  him  up  (as  she  phrased  it  to 
herself)  she  caught  his  last  words: 

"  The  car — in  the  back  lane." 

The  coffee  was  bubbling  over  the  tiny  spirit  flame. 
Lady  Gertrude's  taper  fingers  moved  smoothly  among 
the  old  Spode  cups. 

"  I  hear  a  motor,"  said  Lady  Florence,  pausing 
to  listen,  the  sugar  spoon  suspended  in  mid-air. 

"  That  is  the  car  for  Norah,"  said  Lady  Ger- 
trude, casting  a  glance  through  the  window  at  the 
further  end  of  the  room.  "  It  is  too  early  for 
Coralie." 

She  caught  a  glint  of  her  own  chauffeur's  white 
cap  through  the  muslin  curtains.  Lady  Enniscorthy 
snorted. 

"  How  that  horrible  machine  throbs !  " 

"  Surely  I  hear  another  motor?  "  pursued  Lady 
Florence. 

Hers  was  the  type  of  mind  that  comments  unneces- 
sarily on  the  obvious  and  minute  events  of  life. 

"  That's  on  the  road,"  responded  the  placid  sister. 

Coffee  was  taken  thereafter  in  a  silence  broken  only 
by  Lady  Enniscorthy's  demands  for  more  milk,  more 
sugar,  and  more  coffee. 


THE     STORY     OF    A     DAY        27 

"  The  motor's  gone,"  remarked  Lady  Florence  at 
length. 

Lady  Gertrude  did  not  this  time  cast  a  glance 
towards  the  window;  perhaps  she  did  not  want  to 
see  her  daughter's  pretty  muffled  head  glide  across 
the  panes,  knowing  that  it  was  full  of  mutinous  and 
resentful  thoughts  against  herself. 

But  she  need  not  have  feared  to  look,  for  the  car 
moving  away  at  a  steady  wheel  was  empty  of  pas- 
sengers. 

Enniscorthy  lightly  sprang  up  the  back  stairs 
and  then  entered  the  schoolroom  without  knock- 
ing. 

Norah,  alone  by  the  uncleared  luncheon  table,  was 
reflectively  gazing  at  a  blue  jug  of  warm  water  which 
stood  flanked  by  a  tumbler  on  a  small  tray.  Over 
her  school  frock  the  girl  had  donned  her  loose  white 
motor  coat,  which  hung  open,  revealing  the  slight, 
belted  figure ;  from  her  winged  motor  hat,  which  gave 
the  charming  wild  beauty  of  her  face  something  of 
a  Valkyrie  look,  the  long  gauze  ends  of  her  veil 
floated  untied. 

Young  Enniscorthy  paused  upon  his  impetuous 
entrance.  Norah  struck  him  (as  he  expressed  it)  all 
of  a  heap  whenever  he  saw  her.  To-day  with  "  that 
winged  thing "  and  "  those  floaty  things  "  and  the 
smile  which  she  turned  upon  him,  and  "  by  Jove ! " 
that  look  in  her  eyes  .  .  .  Well,  he'd  known 
it  all  along,  of  course,  known  it  without  knowing  it, 
as  it  were,  but  now  it  came  upon  him  in  such  a  way 


28        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

that  it  positively  robbed  him  of  breath.  Norah  was 
the  one  being  in  the  world  for  him. 

He  stood,  panting  a  little. 

"  There  you  are,  Enn,"  said  Norah,  with  great 
composure. 

She  had  smiled — a  brilliant  smile  of  welcome  and 
satisfaction — at  sight  of  her  young  lover;  for  she, 
in  turn,  had  thought  him  very  good  to  look  upon, 
and  had  known  (long  before  Enniscorthy  himself) 
that  he  and  she  were  destined  for  each  other.  But 
there  was  no  agitation  about  the  matter.  She  was 
practical,  she  was  content ;  she  liked  him  with  all  her 
clear  brain  and  all  her  child's  heart.  The  woman 
in  her  was  yet  deeply  asleep. 

He  was  good  to  look  on ;  "  one  of  the  best,"  his 
comrades  called  him — clean-limbed  and  clean-minded, 
a  wholesome  English  youth,  full  of  life,  of  honest 
common  sense  and  inherited  prejudice  as  to  honour 
and  class  obligations. — "  Hang  it  all — there  are 
things  a  fellow  does  not  do,"  that  would  be  his  con- 
demnation of  any  infraction  of  those  unwritten  laws  ; 
and  how  severe  those  laws,  it  would  take  a  mind  at- 
tuned to  his  own  to  understand.  Not  over-clever, 
but  capable  of  sturdy  work;  not  unduly  handsome, 
but  well-featured,  with  a  finely-set  head,  a  good 
square  brow  and  jaw;  and  something  besides,  some- 
thing intangible  and  incommunicable,  of  breeding 
and  charm;  a  smile,  an  occasional  look  in  the  eyes 
that  told  of  a  spirituality  a  little  unusual  in  a  not 
otherwise  unusual  type. 

"I  say,  Norah — ready?     Come  along." 


THE     STORY     OF     A     DAY        29 

(We  grow  increasingly  inarticulate  with  the  cen- 
turies— how  will  our  children's  children  communicate 
to  each  other  the  deepest  feelings  of  their  souls?) 

She  ran  to  him  and  began  to  whisper. 

"  Look  here,  Enn,  you  pop  down  to  the  hall  door 
and  just  tell  Binks  the  car's  not  wanted. — Oh,  don't 
be  stupid !  Binks  is  waiting  for  me  with  the  car,  of 
course.  You've  got  to  get  him  quietly  away;  you 
can  give  him  ten  shillings  and  say  the  car  won't  be 
wanted:  with  a  wink — like  this.  Binks  will  under- 
stand ;  he's  a  dear.  But,  I  say,  you'd  better  go  out 
by  the  back  door,  and  slink  round  by  the  house,  in 
case  Barker  should  be  in  the  hall.  Barker  is  a  reg- 
ular pig ! " 

"  Right !  "  said  Enniscorthy. 

He  returned,  with  astounding  celerity,  to  find 
Norah  in  much  the  same  attitude  as  before. 

"  It's  0.  K. "  he  began,  loud  and  jovial. 

She  arrested  him,  finger  on  lip,  and  made  a  grimace 
at  the  door,  which  was  half  open  behind  her. 

"  Hush,  you  gabby !     Fraulein !  " 

He  took  a  couple  of  steps  towards  her. 

"  Hulloa !  Haven't  you  settled  with  her  yet  ?  "  he 
whispered  back. 

"  No,"  responded  Norah,  in  the  same  undertone, 
with  much  mouthing.  "  I'm  thinking  of  something." 

She  straightened  herself  and  looked  extraordi- 
narily innocent. 

"  Norah !  Norah !  "  came  a  somewhat  querulous 
voice  from  the  next  room.  This  was  followed  by  a 
patter  of  short  steps. 


30       DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

"  Yes,"  responded  the  pupil  cheerfully. 

"  It  is  late,  child.  Haf  you  seen  my  blue  spec- 
tacles ?  Ach,  I  haf  not  yet  dronk  my  hot  water !  " 

A  flat,  squat  figure,  dingy-brown  in  garments  and 
complexion,  bearing  a  fantastic  resemblance  to  a  do- 
mestic blackbeetle  reared  on  its  hind  legs,  appeared  in 
the  doorway  adjoining  the  two  rooms.  The  plainness 
of  the  flat  countenance  was  redeemed  by  the  remark- 
able intelligence  of  the  forehead;  the  discontented 
twist  of  the  mouth  by  a  twinkle  of  kind  eyes.  Frau- 
lein  was  a  "  good  old  sort  " — Norah  was  the  first  to 
admit  it.  She  was  a  treasure  of  learning,  Lady 
Gertrude  knew,  and  a  treasure  of  fidelity. 

"  Ach !  it  is  my  lord !  "  cried  the  German  lady  from 
the  threshold. 

She  ought  to  have  been  angry — it  was  an  infringe- 
ment of  all  established  rules.  But  she  smiled ;  and  a 
thousand  good-humoured,  humorous  wrinkles  gath- 
ered up  her  countenance,  making  it  quite  pleasant 
to  look  upon,  drawing  one  irresistibly  to  smile  back. 
Fraulein  had  her  vulnerable  points.  This  handsome 
young  man — an  Edelmann — with  his  pretty,  kind 
ways,  never  failed  to  find  one  of  them.  Norah,  the 
minx,  had  knowledge  of  another. 

"  Good-morning,  Fraulein.  I  hope  you  don't  mind. 
I  just  looked  in  for  one  minute,  don't  you  know." 

He  turned  for  instructions  to  his  cousin.  She  was 
feeling  the  blue  jug. 

"  It's  quite  warm  still.  It's  Fraulein's  hot  water," 
she  explained  sympathetically.  "  She's  doing  the 
Salisbury  treatment  now.  It's  agreeing  with  her 


THE     STORY    OF    A    DAY        31 

ever  so  much  better  than  nuts.  Minced  beef  at  every 
meal,  you  know,  and  you  mustn't  drink  till  after 
meals — and  then  it's  hot  water." 

"  Oh,  I  say !  "  said  Enniscorthy.  There  was  gen- 
uine concern  in  his  voice.  The  Salisbury  treatment 
sounded  unspeakably  horrible. 

"  It  is  for  my  rheumatism,  my  lort,"  said  the 
little  Teuton.  She  stretched  her  knobby  hand  in  its 
buff  cotton  glove  for  the  glass  of  water  Norah  was 
thoughtfully  pouring  out. 

"  I  say,  by  Jove,  you  know ! "  said  Enniscorthy, 
staring.  "  Do  you  think  it  really  agrees  with 
you?" 

"Do  you?"  asked  Norah,  pausing  in  her  act  of 
ministration.  She  put  down  the  jug.  "  You  look 
awfully  tired !  Perhaps  it's  the  minced  beef  ?  " 

"  Ach,  wass ! "  cried  Fraulein,  a  note  of  alarm  in 
her  voice. 

"  She  does  look  tired,"  said  Norah,  her  green  eyes 
roaming  solemnly  to  her  cousin's  face.  "  She  looks 
quite  ill.  Oh,  I  do  hope,  Trottsky  darling,  you 
haven't  got  one  of  your  chills!  There'  such  a  lot 
of  flu  about." 

"  Ach ! " 

"  Gladys  had  a  temperature  of  a  hundred  and 
three  last  week.  (That's  the  second  housemaid, 
Enn.  Mamma  says  she's  to  be  called  Mary,  but  I 
don't  see  why  she  shouldn't  be  called  Gladys,  if  she 
likes,  poor  thing!)  " 

Fraulein  had  sat  down  and  was  feeling  her  pulse 
under  the  cotton  glove.  Her  face  was  no  longer 


32        DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

wrinkled  with  its  good  smile.  Its  subfusk  hue  had 
altered  to  a  sickly  pallor.  Her  pulse  was  undeniably 
quick.  There  was  no  doubt  about  it.  Norah  knew 
her  little  governess's  weakest  point. 

She  winked  meaningly  at  Enniscorthy. 

"  Tell  you  what,  Trottsky,  I'm  going  to  take  your 
temperature.  And  if  it's  up,  you  will  just  bundle 
into  bed  with  a  quinine  and  phenacetin." 

"  Aber,  Norah,  Liebchen!  ..."  said  Frau- 
lein  mistily,  and  propped  her  head  on  her  hand. 

A  temperature!  It  was  more  than  probable  that 
she  had  a  temperature  with  so  rapid  a  pulse.  Now 
that  she  came  to  think  of  it  the  workings  of  her  brain 
had  been  extraordinarily  vivid,  not  to  say  excited, 
during  the  history  lesson  this  morning.  She  had 
thought  it  had  been  stimulated  by  the  fire  of  pa- 
triotism, for  the  story  of  the  Prussian  victory  at 
Waterloo  never  failed  to  stir  her  soul ;  but  it  was 
most  probably  this  fever.  And  she  had  had  little  or 
no  appetite  for  that  second  helping  of  minced  beef. 
She  had  had  positively  to  force  herself  to  it.  And 
was  there  not  a  pain  over  her  left  eye? 

"  Perhaps  it  would  be  better,"  she  admitted. 

Norah  briskly  departed  and  as  briskly  returned. 
She  knew  where  the  thermometer  was — on  the  table 
beside  Fraulein's  bed. 

"  Are  you  sure  it  is  shaken  down  ?  "  asked  the  sud- 
den invalid  anxiously,  as  Norah  stood  again  beside 
the  hot-water  jug,  with  nimble  fingers  unscrewing  the 
top  of  the  nickel  case.  "  It  was  a  point  and  a  half 
up  last  night." 


THE     STORY     OF    A    DAY        33 

"  Of  course ! "  cried  the  pupil  in  her  gay  young 
voice. 

She  tossed  back  the  long  ends  of  her  veil  and  began 
to  shake  the  thermometer  violently. 

"  O  Weh,  mein  Kopf! "  sighed  Fraulein  Traut- 
mann — or  Trottsky,  affectionately,  for  Norah.  The 
pain  had  now  distinctly  developed  in  both  temples ; 
it  could  only  be  the  frontal  ague  of  severe  influenza. 
She  clasped  them  in  her  small  gloved  fingers. 

There  was  a  clink  against  the  blue  jug.  Norah 
dropped  the  thermometer-case  ostentatiously  upon 
the  tray ;  then  she  stood  over  her  teacher  and  deftly 
inserted  the  thermometer  into  her  mouth. 

"  But,  child,"  spluttered  the  latter,  "  have  you 
even  washed  it?  " 

"  What  do  you  take  me  for?  "  cried  Norah,  with 
accents  of  truth.  "  I  washed  it  most  carefully,  Frau- 
lein." 

Enniscorthy,  who  since  Norah's  wink  had  ab- 
stained from  even  watching  the  proceedings  and 
stood  by  the  window,  looking  down  through  the  open 
sash  on  the  green  lawn  and  whistling  under  his 
breath,  now  wheeled  round.  He  glanced  at  the  little 
German,  who  sat  with  corrugated  brows,  the  air  of 
anxiety  and  pain  on  her  face  contrasting  with  the 
false  rakishness  with  which  the  thermometer  stuck 
out  of  one  side  of  her  mouth. 

"  I  say,  Norah,"  he  began  then,  and  his  eyes  wore 
a  puzzled  and  not  altogether  pleased  expression  as 
they  turned  upon  his  cousin.  "  I  say,  Norah,  you 
know " 


34        DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

"  Sh-sh !  "  She  waved  him  peremptorily  to  silence. 
"  You  mustn't  speak ;  don't  you  see  I'm  taking 
the  time?  We'll  make  it  three  minutes,  Trots;  its 
safer." 

Enniscorthy  ran  his  very  nice,  well-shaped  hand 
through  his  thick  fair  hair,  and  pulled  as  much  as 
he  could  grasp  to  assist  the  process  of  thinking.  Ap- 
parently the  stimulation  failed,  for  he  turned  again 
to  the  window  with  an  air  of  dejection.  Norah's 
uplifted  voice  startled  him. 

"  A  hundred  and  three ! "  Her  tones  were  shrill, 
as  if  some  alarm  mingled  with  the  importance  of  the 
announcement. 

"  Aber,  in  Gottes  Namen!"  .  .  .  ejaculated 
Fraulein.  In  her  excitement,  she  snatched  the  ther- 
mometer from  her  pupil's  hand  with  a  vigour  sur- 
prising in  one  so  stricken.  "  It  is  doch  true !  "  she 
exclaimed. 

"  True — rather !  Hundred  and  three — no  mistake 
about  it.  Just  look,  Enn — poor  Fraulein !  Isn't  it 
lucky  we  found  it  out  before  starting  in  the  motor? 
Why,  it  might  have  been  your  death !  No,  Trottsky, 
it's  bed,  and  quinine,  and — and " 

Fraulein  was  heard  to  murmur  some  contradictory 
remarks  about  her  duty  to  Lady  Gertrude;  her  de- 
sire for  an  immediate  interview  with  her;  her  fear  of 
conveying  infection.  Her  face  had  grown  very  red; 
there  was  an  unwonted  light  in  her  eyes. 

"  I  feel  unendlich  elend ! "  she  avowed.  Yet  her 
accents  breathed  less  of  complaint  than  of  a  certain 
sombre  satisfaction. 


THE     STORY     OF     A     DAY        35 

"  Now,  don't  you  worry — I'll  settle  everything 
with  mamma.  Oh,  yes,  oh,  yes,  Thomasine  can  take 
me  to  the  studio!  Tell  you  what,  Fraulein,  I'll  call 
on  Dr.  Somers  on  the  way  and  send  him  up  to  you 
post-haste." 

"  Ach,  he  will  not  say  it  is  hypochondria  this 
time !  "  said  the  little  Fraulein ;  there  was — no  mis- 
taking it — triumph  in  her  tone. 

She  rose  as  she  spoke,  and  Norah  promptly  hus- 
tled her  towards  her  bedroom. 

"  Goot-morning,  my  lort,"  said  the  polite  "  Trott- 
sky,"  in  plaintive  farewell  over  her  shoulder. 

"  Come  now,  Trottsky,  I  can't  let  you  kiss  him 
this  time." 

"  Ach,  Norah— pfui! " 

"  Thomasine,  indeed,"  cried  the  girl,  as  she  closed 
the  door  upon  the  sufferer  and  came  skipping  back 
towards  the  young  man,  her  veil  flying,  mischief  and 

joy  bubbling  from  her.  "Thomasine,  indeed " 

Then  with  one  of  her  irrepressible  outbursts :  "  I 
am  going  with  my  own  Tommy  boy  and  nobody 
else." 

She  flung  herself  against  Enniscorthy  as  she  spoke, 
and  he  had  to  catch  her  by  the  waist  to  keep 
her  from  falling.  She  bent  the  adorable  lithe- 
ness  of  her  young  weight  over  his  arm  and  laughed 
up  at  him,  her  green  eyes  swimming  in  tears  of 
mirth. 

"  Hold  me,  Enn,  hold  me,  or  I  shall  die !  It's  a 
mercy  it  wasn't  a  hundred  and  nine,  or  poor  old 
Trottsky  would  have  had  a  fit." 


36        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

"  Steady,  steady,  Norah !  Look  here,  old  girl — 
stand  straight,  will  you?" 

The  boy  was  trembling  from  the  contact  that  left 
her  cool  and  untroubled  as  a  flower.  But  it  was  his 
code  and  his  instinct  that  he  should  not  even  draw 
close  the  arm  that  held  his  beloved.  The  time  was 
not  yet  at  hand  when  he  would  speak;  she  was  still 
a  child.  And  though  he  shook  with  his  young  honest 
feeling  for  her,  his  judgment  remained  uninfluenced. 
Beginning  with  the  inevitable  "  I  say,  you  know,"  he 
proceeded,  in  rebuking  tones  : 

"  It  isn't  quite  pretty  of  you,  Norah.  The  poor 
little  thing  must  be  very  ill  to  have  such  a  tempera- 
ture. By  Jove,  they  made  an  awful  fuss  when  I  went 
up  to  that  after  my  polo  smash." 

Norah,  not  the  least  offended,  took  the  table  for 
support  instead  of  her  young  guardsman. 

"  Oh,  Enn,  you  incomparable  idiot,  you  complete 
ass!  Didn't  you  see  me?  Why,  I  dipped  the  ther- 
mometer into  the  hot-water  jug!" 

"Norah!" 

"  Trottsky  is  as  well  as  you  or  I." 

"  Oh,  I  say,  what  a  horrid  trick ! " 

"  Trick !  She's  as  happy  as  a  queen.  She's  going 
to  have  three  hours'  unmitigated  glory,  until  the 
doctor  finds  her  normal  again.  And  then  even  he 
cannot  deny  the  thermometer,  can  he?  Trust  her  to 
brandish  it  at  him.  They  will  talk  till  all's  blue; 
and  he'll  have  to  keep  her  in  bed  in  case  it  should 
be  true  bill,  and  she  have  a  collapse  after  such  a 
sudden  fall." 


THE     STORY     OF    A     DAY        37 

"  Norah,  you're  too  clever  to  live,"  said  Ennis- 
corthy,  not  quite  certain  whether  he  approved  of  so 
much  cleverness. 

"  Well,  you  ain't !  That  ought  to  be  a  comfort 
to  you.  Come,  let's  scuttle." 

She  tucked  her  arm  into  his :  they  ran  out  together 
like  children. 


ni 

LADY  GERTRUDE  was  wont  to  say  that  what  she 
most  admired  about  her  American  niece  was  her  eye- 
lashes ;  these  were  fabulously  long  and  curling,  and 
gave  extraordinary  value  to  a  pair  of  innocent  blue 
eyes,  set  oddly  and  attractively  in  a  soft,  dark,  south- 
ern face.  But  while  her  husband  conceded  the  worth 
of  the  eyelashes,  in  his  heart  what  he  most  admired 
was  Coralie's  figure.  She  was  indeed  faite  au  moule, 
as  one  of  her  dressmakers  (Coralie  often  purchased 
clothes  in  Paris)  was  fond  of  observing;  designed  on 
lines  such  as  scarcely  any  Englishwoman  can  boast 
of,  and  but  few  Americans.  Slight  and  yet  round ; 
lithe,  balanced,  with  the  perfect  grace  of  her  perfect 
build,  it  was  a  pleasure  to  see  her  walk  across  a 
room.  It  was  a  pleasure,  when  she  sat  still,  to  trace 
for  oneself  how  curve  of  throat  met  curve  of  chin, 
how  roundness  of  arm  lost  itself  in  delicacy  of  wrist. 
For  the  rest  she  had  a  small  face  with  indefinite  fea- 
tures, except  for  those  blue  eyes  ;  dark  hair  that  went 
into  little  rings ;  a  nose  that  cocked  even  more  than 
Norah's  own,  and  drew  the  upper  lip  with  it  apart 
in  a  baby  kind  of  way  over  very  small  white  teeth. 
From  the  same  baby  lips  remarks  of  the  most  ex- 
traordinary shrewdness  were  wont  to  emerge, 
couched  in  pointed  language,  but  enunciated  in  the 
softest  accents.  The  voice  insinuated,  while  the  lan- 

38 


THE     STORY     OF     A     DAY        39 

guage  knocked  you  down ;  the  contrast  was  piquant. 
Withal  Coralie  had  tact. 

Ernest,  her  excellent  British  husband — a  captain 
of  artillery,  with  as  little  notion  of  sparing  a  situa- 
tion as  one  of  his  own  shells — looked,  as  he  felt,  the 
very  image  of  awkwardness  to  find  himself  thrust 
into  the  centre  of  a  family  conclave  upon  a  matter 
of  so  much  delicacy.  But  Coralie's  ease  never  de- 
serted her  for  a  second;  nay,  it  almost  seemed  as  if 
she  enjoyed  the  horrible  moments. 

He  had  not  wanted  to  go  to  Windsor  at  all,  so 
soon  as  Coralie  had  made  him  understand  for  what 
purpose  he  was  wanted  there.  She  had  divined  the 
position  from  the  first  strained  word  of  Lady  Ger- 
trude's telephonic  communication.  But  when  he  had 
said  how  much  rather  he  would  not  start  on  such  an 
errand,  Coralie  had  answered: 

"  Oh,  my,  Ernest,  you've  just  got  to  go!"  And 
when  Coralie  said  "  You've  just  got  to,"  Ernest 
felt  he  just  had  to. 

All  the  way  down  he  had  lamented  in  her  unsym- 
pathetic ear: 

"  'Pon  my  soul,  Coralie,  this  is  a  very  silly  busi- 
ness. This  is  a  regular  fool  business !  How  am  I 
to  go  and  talk  about  my  uncle  to  my  aunt,  don't 
you  know?  " 

"  You  needn't  talk,"  said  Coralie.  "  I'll  do  that ; 
but  you're  wanted  as  a  kind  of  support.  Aunt  G. 
asked  for  both  of  us.  Aunt  G.  has  always  been 
lovely  to  me,  and  I  don't  see  how  I  can  get  out  of 
doing  her  a  service  when  she  asks  me." 


40        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

"  Jolly  queer  kind  of  service !  "  muttered  Captain 
Jamieson,  "  tattling  about  a  man's  flirtations  to  his 
wife ! " 

"  You  don't  understand — she  means  to  know ; 
she's  just  got  to  know,"  opined  his  wife. 

There  it  was.  His  aunt  had  got  to  know,  and  he 
had  got  to  go ;  and  deuced  uncomfortable  it  seemed 
all  round.  As  the  motor  slowed  through  the  Geor- 
gian pillars  of  the  Orange  Court  entrance-gates,  the 
soldier  made  a  futile  attempt  at  self-consolation. 

"  Perhaps,"  he  hazarded,  "  that's  not  what  we  are 
wanted  for  at  all." 

"  Perhaps  you're  just  an  old  silly,"  said  Mrs. 
Jamieson,  with  her  engaging  blink  of  eyelashes  and 
tilt  of  tilted  lip. 

Captain  Jamieson  would  have  liked  to  kiss  her 
then  and  there,  as  she  stood  up  shaking  the  motor- 
wraps  from  her  slim  figure.  But  Barker  was  staring 
at  them  from  the  doorstep.  Barker  had  not  yet 
fathomed  the  meaning  of  this  gathering  of  the  clans 
in  conjunction  with  his  master's  non-appearance. 

No  sooner  had  they  crossed  the  threshold  of  the 
drawing-room  than,  with  mingled  admiration  and 
dismay,  the  soldier  realised  afresh  his  wife's  acumen. 
His  first  look  at  his  grandmother's  and  mother's  por- 
tentous countenances  dispelled  all  his  own  lingering 
hope.  The  first  words  that  greeted  him  were  final 
confirmation : 

"  Ernest,  your  uncle  Reginald  has  not  yet  arrived." 

It  was  Lady  Enniscorthy  who  spoke.  Lady 
Florence  sighed.  Ernest  blushed  as  if  he  had  himself 


THE     STORY     OF    A     DAY        41 

been  the  delinquent.  Yet  Lady  Gertrude  was  all 
suavity. 

"  You  dears  !  "  she  said,  and  kissed  them  both.  "  I 
cannot  thank  you  enough  for  coming.  Yes,  indeed, 
my  man  still  plays  the  truant ;  and  after  three  years* 
absence!  Well,  you  see,  that's  just  what  I  want  to 
talk  about.  It  is  a  little  disturbing,  isn't  it?  Cor- 
alie,  you're  a  perfect  wonder!  I  don't  believe  you 
ever  travel  like  a  human  being.  You've  just  been 
unpacked  from  silver  paper — and,  oh,  my  dear,  what 
a  dowdy  I  feel  beside  you ! " 

Coralie  made  play  with  her  eyelashes.  She 
thought  Lady  Gertrude  (as  she  informed  her  hus- 
band afterwards)  quite  superb  to  carry  it  off  like 
that.  But  Ernest  did  not  agree  with  her.  He  was 
very  glad,  he  told  himself,  that  he  was  not  Sir  Regi- 
nald. Aunt  Gertrude  was  too  airy.  It  wasn't 
wholesome. 

Coralie  liked  to  hear  her  clothes  praised ;  she  pre- 
ferred to  be  praised  for  her  taste  than  for  her  looks 
— a  subtlety  which  her  husband  had  not  yet  fath- 
omed. She  now  gave  herself  a  little  undulatory  shake 
of  satisfaction.  In  anyone  less  graceful  it  would 
have  been  a  wriggle;  with  her,  it  was  an  expression 
of  feeling  which  added  to  her  somewhat  feline  charm. 
She  looked  round;  the  smile  became  accentuated  on 
her  lips  as  she  met  her  grandmother-in-law's 
stare. 

Lady  Enniscorthy  had  never  outwardly  appeared 
to  have  forgiven  her  grandson's  marriage;  to  have 
admitted  the  American  to  her  family  circle.  Her  feel- 


42        DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

ings,  however,  displayed  themselves  chiefly  by  an  un- 
relenting gaze  and  by  a  strong  silence.  To  her  Cora- 
lie  was  apparently  only  the  American  her  grandson 
had  picked  up.  What  she  did  and  said  and  how  she 
looked  was  no  concern  of  the  Dowager's.  Mrs. 
Jamieson  seemed  to  find  the  situation  stimulating. 
She  had  a  curious  affection  for  the  terrible  old  lady. 
For  Lady  Florence,  on  the  other  hand,  by  whom 
she  knew  herself  really  disliked,  but  who  adminis- 
tered her  thrusts  wrapped  in  honeyed  words,  she  had 
a  cordial,  not  to  say  cheerful,  enmity.  It  was  her 
practice  to  stock  her  memory  with  the  most  outland- 
ish Americanisms,  picked  up  irrespective  of  district 
or  probability,  for  the  sheer  delight  of  hurling  them 
at  the  widow's  sleek  head.  But  she  had  a  way  of 
pronouncing  the  word :  really,  which  was  all  her  own, 
and  which  added  a  wheedling  persuasiveness  to  its 
meaning. 

"  We  did  quite  sufficient  embracing  this  morning," 
said  Lady  Enniscorthy,  as  Coralie  hovered,  smiling, 
before  her  chair. 

"  Sit  here,  my  dear,"  said  Lady  Gertrude  inter- 
vening. "  Ernest,  do  sit.  Now,  Coralie,  please  read 
that  telegram." 

"  Oh,  ginger !  "  said  Coralie,  when  she  had  done  as 
she  was  bidden.  "My!  Ernest — he  calls  it  im- 
portant business." 

"  What  do  you  call  it  ?  "  asked  Lady  Gertrude 
swiftly. 

"  Waal  " — with  an  exaggerated  twang — "  guess 
I'd  better  tell  you  what  it  calls  itself.'' 


THE     STORY    OF    A    DAY        43 

"  My  dear,  that  is  exactly  what  I  have  asked  you 
down  for." 

Coralie  paused  a  second.  She  pursed  her  lips  and 
sent  a  slow  glance  round,  pausing  with  an  imper- 
ceptible wink  upon  her  husband's  heated  counte- 
nance. Then  she  delivered  herself  unctuously: 

"  It  calls  itself,  '  Emerald  Fanny.'  " 

"Emerald  Fanny?" 

"  It  does,  it  does !  " — Mrs.  Jamieson  went  off  into 
a  gurgle  of  soft  laughter.  "  And  it  writes  itself 
*  Emerald  Fanny,'  with  a  dash  and  two  dots.  I  got 
a  letter  from  her  just  before  I  came  out,  signed, 
'  Yours  sincerely,  Emerald  Fanny,  dash  and  two 
dots.'  And  it's  all  wrong  from  beginning  to  end. 
It's  hair's  the  wrong  yellow;  it's  got  patent  leather 

shoes ;  and  it's  tied  up  in  little  bows.  And  it " 

She  paused,  arresting  her  glib  tongue  just  in  time ; 
she  was  going  to  add :  "  It's  made  a  puffect  fool  of 
Uncle  Reggie." 

But  Lady  Gertrude  completed  the  description 
with  equal  point,  if  less  directness. 

"  And  my  husband  admires  her  so  much  that  he 
cannot  tear  himself  away  from  her." 

"  Oh,  come  now,"  said  the  soldier — "  <v  -ne  now, 
Coralie !  "  He  shifted  his  eyes  from  Ladj  -'Gertrude 
to  fix  them  on  his  wife,  and  found  it  easiet  to  pro- 
ceed. It  was  a  deuced  uncomfortable  situation. 
"  Uncle  Reginald  said  he'd  have  to  look  in  at  the 
War  Office,  and  he  could  hardly  get  out  of  taking 
her  to  see  those  apartments,  you  know." 


"  Oh,  my,  yes !  "  Coralie's  pretty  drawl  slipped 
in  so  gently;  it  could  hardly  be  called  an  interrup- 
tion. "  Poor  little,  lonely  Emerald  Fanny — going 
to  be  stranded  all  alone  in  London !  *  A  poor  little 
widow  like  me,  who  can't  afford  to  go  to  an  hotel.' 
She  never  can  afford  anything,  poor  little  widow; 
but  she  gets  more  than  most  people,  you  bet.  You 
should  just  have  heard  her  at  it  all  the  way  on  the 
train  this  morning." 

"  But,  hang  it  all,  she  is  a  poor  little  widow,  and 
London  is  a  beastly  place  to  be  stranded  in !  Can't 
get  out  of  that,  Coralie." 

"  Ernest  Fitz-Esmond  Jamieson,  did  I  not  tell  you 
on  that  platform  at  Waterloo  to-day  to  go  and 
offer  that  woman  to  trot  her  around  and  get  her 
rooms,  to  get  her  that '  hole  for  my  poor  little  head  ' 
we  heard  so  much  about ;  and  did  she,  or  did  she  not, 
say  to  you,  *  It's  too,  too  sweet  of  you,  Captain 
Jamieson,  but  Sir  Reginald  has  made  me  promise 
to  let  him  see  to  me,  and  I  should  be  so  afraid 
of  hurting  his  feelings.  I  know  you  will  under- 
stand'?" 

Captain  Jamieson  crossed  and  uncrossed  his  sturdy 
legs.  No  man  likes  to  hear  a  woman  abuse  another 
woman.  No  man  but  wants  to  stand  up  in  defence 
of  the  accused ;  but  he  unfortunately  could  find  noth- 
ing to  s]iy.  The  facts  were  accurate  and  the  mim- 
icry perfect. 

"  It's  an  awful  pity,  Aunt  G.,"  he  blurted  out, 
"  that  you  did  not  come  to  meet  the  General  at 
Southampton.  He  was  looking  out  for  you — 'pon 


THE     STORY     OF    A     DAY        45 

my  word  he  was.  Telegram  wasn't  at  all  the  same 
thing." 

As  Captain  Jamieson  concluded  his  speech,  he 
suddenly  stammered  and  turned  from  his  normal 
brick-red  to  an  almost  apoplectic  colour.  For  the 
first  time,  perhaps,  in  his  life  he  had  been  guilty  of 
deliberate  prevarication,  and  his  wife's  eyes  were 
upon  him,  mocking  him.  Both  knew  very  well  that 
Sir  Reginald  had  been  much  relieved  that  his  wife 
should  not  have  departed  from  her  usual  rule  by 
meeting  him  at  the  harbour ;  that  when  he  had  looked 
out  for  her,  it  had  been  with  the  anxiety  of  a  trou- 
bled conscience — Mrs.  Lancelot  the  while,  with  small, 
clinging  hands  upon  his  arm,  advertising  him  as  her 
protector  with  an  artless  confidence  which  was  im- 
pervious to  hint. 

Coralie  winked  again  at  her  husband  as  the  Dow- 
ager took  up  the  indictment,  with  a  single  "  Ha ! " 
that  rang  out  with  alarming  abruptness.  It  was 
her  first  expression  of  opinion  for  some  time;  and, 
though  short,  it  was  pregnant — a  triumphant  utter- 
ance of  vindicated  wisdom.  Lady  Florence's  sigh 
was  equally  expressive. 

Gertrude,  whose  calm  eyes  had  been  fixed  upon 
her  niece  with  great  intentness,  as  if  endeavouring  to 
picture  to  herself  her  rival,  proceeded  now  thought- 
fully— after  her  fashion,  ignoring  interruption  or 
reproach : 

"  I  wonder,  Coralie,  that  Mrs.  Lancelot's  reign 
should  have  lasted  so  long,  with  you  under  Reginald's 
roof ! " 


46       DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

"  Why — it's  been  a  considerable  surprise  to  my- 
self. It's  kind  of  brought  me  down  in  my  own  esti- 
mation. *  You  bet  your  bottom  dollar,  Ernest  Fitz- 
Esmond,'  said  I,  the  first  night  we  arrrived  at  Bom- 
bay, *  that  creature  will  know  her  place  before  the 
week's  out.'  But  she  was  rooted,  regularly  rooted, 
Aunt  G.  She  had  got  a  three  months'  start  and  she 
had  got  on  to  the  soft  side  of  poor  Uncle  Reggie 
with  those  widow's  streamers,  and  I  was  beaten  flat 
— out  of  sight.  Didn't  I  make  love  to  Uncle  Reg- 
gie? Didn't  I,  Ernest?  Didn't  I  wear  my  best 
frocks  at  him?  Didn't  I  try  to  make  him  beau  me? 
And  wasn't  I  the  most  complete  failure?  My  dear, 
that  man  remained  hopelessly  avuncular  with  your 
humble  servant,  while  Emerald  Fanny  waltzed  in 
sentiment.  When  Erny  and  I  landed  out  there  she 
had  just  nursed  the  General  through  his  fever." 

"  That  dreadful  attack  of  fever  of  poor  Regi- 
nald's," said  her  mother-in-law,  with  double-barrelled 
severity,  rebuking  at  once  the  flippancy  of  the 
speaker  and  the  heartlessness  of  her  sister. 

"  Now,  don't  you  run  away  with  that  idea,  mom- 
ma." Mrs.  Jamieson  took  fresh  pleasure  every  time 
she  saw  her  aristocratic  relative  wince  under  the  ap- 
pellation ;  being  popularly  supposed  to  be  distinctly 
American,  she  carefully  cultivated  it  for  her  special 
benefit.  Coralie's  natural  pronunciation  of  the  word 
would  have  been  soft  and  flat.  Her  only  regret, 
as  she  told  her  husband,  was  that  there  was  no  being 
on  earth  that  she  could  address  as  Poppa.  "  Don't 
you  run  away  with  that  notion,  mom-ma  dear,  what- 


THE     STORY    OF    A    DAY        47 

ever  you  do.  The  General  was  only  just  bad  enough 
to  think  himself  dying,  to  lie  picturesquely  on  a 
sofa,  and  have  lemonade  made  for  him  and  com- 
presses for  his  throbbing  brow,  and  be  purred  at  and 
pitied.  Emerald  Fanny  made  a  good  deal  of  that 
business  after  we  came — she  had  made  a  great  deal 
of  it  before  we  came.  Oh,  she  was  still  in  her  weeds 
then !  Aunt  G.,  she  wore  a  Marie  Stuart  coif  with 
jet  nails,  and  a  long,  long  veil  down  to  the  end  of 
her  dress,  a  kind  of  gossamer  that  floated  out  be- 
hind her.  Ugh !  I  do  hate  a  widow  that  kind  of 
runs  up  her  weeds  like  bunting  on  a  ship !  *  Don't 
you  forget  I'm  a  widow — a  sad,  sweet  little  widow, 
oh,  so  lonely!  Will  no  one  console  a  poor  little 
widow  ?  ' 

"  Coralie,"  said  Lady  Florence,  drawing  the  limp 
folds  of  her  perpetual  crape  about  her  massive 
shoulders,  "  there  are  subjects  which  should  be 
sacred." 

"  That's  what  I  think,  mom-ma,"  said  the  irre- 
pressible Coralie,  "  and  that's  why  the  widow  Lance- 
lot just  sickened  me  of  crape.  If  I  never  wear  any 
for  Ernesf,  he'll  know  the  reason  why,  up  there." 

"Coralie!     ..." 

But,  having  punished  her  mother-in-law,  the  gen- 
tle chatterbox  proceeded  with  irresistible  fluency : 

"  Well,  the  ministering  angel  in  weeds  was  irre- 
sistible ;  and  now  the  dear  little  woman  in  half- 
mourning,  with  her  tags  of  mauve  chiffon,  is  just  as 
captivating.  We  allow  ourselves  to  smile  more 
often;  and  then  the  sigh  that  trips  up  our  smile  is 


48        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

even    more    pathetic.     She    calls    Uncle    Reginald 
'  Mon  preux! ' 

"  What  ?  "  e j  aculated  Lady  Gertrude,  shaken  for 
one  moment  out  of  her  preternatural  serenity. 

"  I  wouldn't  tell  a  lie,"  said  Coralie,  with  a  happy 
reminiscence  of  a  phrase  recently  come  across  in -an 
American  magazine.  "  He's  her  preux  chevalier, 
you  know.  You  should  hear  her,  '  Sans  peur  et  sans 
reproche?  *  My  ideal ! '  " 

"  And  what  does  he  call  her  ?  "  asked  Lady  Ger- 
trude, a  frown  faintly  visible  on  her  fair  brow,  while 
a  humorous  smile  twitched  her  lips. 

"  Oh,  petite  madame,  belle  madame,  and  belle 
dame!  " 

"Why  French?"  ejaculated  the  wife. 

"  Deuce  knows — as  Ernest  says — but  I  suppose 
it  is  safer  to  be  tender  in  French  than  in  En- 
glish." 

"  Gertrude,"  said  Lady  Enniscorthy,  with  an  un- 
expected outburst  of  indignation,  "  it  may  be  the 
modern  fashion  for  a  wife  to  sit  in  judgment  on  her 
husband,  to  invite  gossip  and  scandal  about  his 
private  life ;  but  it  is  not  a  fashion  which  I  intend  to 
countenance.  In  my  days  a  wife  deemed  it  her  duty 
to  hide  her  husband's  weaknesses,  not  to  draw  them 
to  the  light  and  discuss  them  in  public." 

"  Oh,  my !  "  said  Coralie. 

"  'Pon  my  word,  I  think  grandmamma  is  quite 
right,"  said  Ernest,  standing  up  and  stamping  as 
if  trying  to  rid  himself  of  some  physical  tension. 


THE     STORY     OF    A    DAY        49 

"  Dear  mamma  is  always  so  right,"  said  Lady 
Florence. 

"  Dear  mamma,"  said  Lady  Gertrude,  meeting 
without  a  tremor  the  glaring  eye,  the  fiercely  hooked 
nose  of  her  redoubtable  mother,  "  I  think  it  is  a  wife's 
duty,  in  such  a  situation  as  mine,  to  know  the  full 
extent  of  her  husband's  state  of  mind.  You  are 
evidently  all  acquainted  with  what  has  happened 
in  much  fuller  detail  than  I  am.  Why  should  I  be 
kept  in  the  dark,  or  try  to  keep  myself  in  the  dark, 
when  it  is  so  important  I  should  see  my  way  clearly? 
You  might  as  well  try  and  hide  a  patient's  condition 
from  his  doctor  or  his  nurse." 

"  That's  so."  Coralie  sprang  up  to  stand  beside 
her  aunt.  "  Isn't  she  just  clever  and  lovely !  Uncle 
Reggie  has  got  a  kind  of  moral  measles.  .  If  anyone 
can  pull  him  through  without  complication  it's  Aunt 
G.  You  may  take  my  word  for  it,  auntie :  the  tem- 
perature isn't  so  much  above  normal — but  the  rash 
is  pretty  bad." 

"  All  the  better,"  said  Lady  Gertrude,  lightly  ac- 
cepting the  simile.  "  It  is  when  it  is  suppressed 
that  it  may  become  dangerous." 

"  Gertrude,"  said  her  mother,  rising,  "  will  you 
kindly  order  the  meter — or  whatever  that  dreadful 
machine  is  called — to  come  round  for  me.  I  have 
had  quite  enough  of  this  ...  of  this  unprofit- 
able conversation." 

Captain  Jamieson  rose  with  great  relief  and  rang 
the  bell.  Lady  Florence  became  very  assiduous  with 


50       DIAMONDS    CUT    PASTE 

veils  and  wraps.  When  the  taximeter  was  an- 
nounced, she  implored  her  mother  not  to  come  out 
into  the  hall  until  she  had  herself  seen  the  car  prop- 
erly closed,  the  footstool  in  its  due  place. 

"  Sit  down  again,  dear  mamma,  it  has  been  such 
a  tiring  day — No,  Coralie,  my  mother  likes  a  high 
chair.  No,  don't  sit  there,  dear  mamma,  there  is 
quite  a  dangerous  draught;  it  has  been  blowing  on 
my  neck  all  the  afternoon.  The  chair  near  the 
screen,  take  that." 

She  had  reached  the  door,  when  Lady  Enniscorthy 
uplifted  her  voice  in  ominously  sweet  accents : 

"  And  may  I  think  while  you  are  absent,  Flor- 
ence? " 

The  old  lady  was  so  pleased  with  the  sharpness 
of  her  own  wit  that  she  forthwith  developed  an 
astounding  good-humour,  and  only  emerged  from  a 
fit  of  quiet  chuckling  to  embrace  the  peccant  Ger- 
trude with  unwonted  tenderness  before  proceeding 
to  the  hall. 

"  Good-bye,  dear  child !  You  have  all  my  good 
wishes,  but  it  will  take  a  cleverer  woman  even  than 
you  to  undo  the  mischief;  it  has  been  allowed  to  go 
too  far!" 

"  You  bet  she'll  have  that  man  back  at  her  feet 
before  the  week's  out,"  said  Coralie,  approaching 
with  more  than  her  usual  undulation.  "  Emerald 
Fanny  nowhere ! " 

The  Dowager  turned  for  a  second  her  wonder- 
fully youthful  eye  piercingly  on  the  pert  interrupter ; 


THE     STORY    OF    A    DAY        51 

then  she  looked  back  at  her  daughter  and  shook  her 
head. 

"  Only  give  me  a  few  days  to  get  back  my  own," 
said  Gertrude  in  a  low  voice. 

"  A  few  days ! "  echoed  her  mother.  "  Forty 
against  twenty-five!  and  you  talk  of  a  few  days! 
Upon  my  word,"  cried  the  old  lady  then,  "  if  you 
succeed  in  that,  Gertrude,  upon  my  word — yes,  upon 
my  word,  it  is  you  who  shall  have  the  tiara ! " 

"  Oh,  ginger !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Jamieson  hilari- 
ously. 


IV 

THE  Countess  of  Enniscorthy  possessed,  by  the 
generosity  of  her  late  doting  lord,  a  tiara  which 
was  her  own  exclusive  property,  and  did  not  pass 
from  her  with  the  family  jewels.  Each  daughter 
had  her  secret  hope  that  this  crown,  which  was  re- 
markable not  only  for  the  colour  and  size  of  its 
diamonds,  but  also  for  its  artistic  design,  might  one 
day  become  her  possession.  Lady  Enniscorthy  had 
announced  her  intention  of  making  it  a  heirloom  in 
whichever  branch  of  the  family  she  selected  to  be 
thus  favoured.  Lady  Florence,  as  the  eldest,  con- 
sidered herself  thereby  almost  entitled  to  be  chosen, 
putting  aside  the  facts  that  she  was,  of  the  three, 
the  sole  possessor  of  a  son,  and  that  her  hourly 
devotion  might  well  call  for  some  special  recognition. 
Jane,  "  who  was  idiotic  enough  for  anything,"  was 
actually  idiotic  enough  to  imagine  that  she  might 
yet  come  in  for  the  distinction — childless  Jane,  who 
had  not  even  beauty  to  be  made  resplendent  by  jewels. 
Gertrude,  the  self-willed,  was  yet  the  favourite 
daughter ;  moreover,  she  was  the  mother  of  the  child 
who  was  the  one  deep  affection  of  Lady  Enniscor- 
thy's  old  age.  Nevertheless,  the  Dowager  had  been 
heard  to  threaten  that  she  would  will  the  tiara,  after 
all,  back  to  the  family — which  meant  that  young 
Enniscorthy,  Norah's  "  Cousin  Enn,"  might  one 

62 


THE     STORY    OF    A    DAY        53 

day  crown  his  bride  with  this  incomparable  glory. 
(And  heaven  knows,  as  Lady  Florence  would  lament, 
whom  he'll  pick  up,  if  he  is  not  already  married  on 
the  sly  to  some  dreadful  actress  or  other.) 

"  Well,"  said  Coralie,  when  the  taximeter  had  bus- 
tled away,  dropping  her  mock  Americanisms  as  grace- 
fully and  carelessly  as  she  would  have  dropped  a 
cloak,  "  I  shall  see  that  tiara  on  your  dear  head  the 
night  you  present  Norah. — Erny,  I'll  have  to  go  to 
that  Court,  just  to  see  Aunt  G.  in  her  blaze." 

Her  husband  turned  his  eyes  fondly  upon  her. 
She  might  have  a  sharp  tongue,  his  Coralie,  but  she 
had  a  generous  soul.  There  was  no  mistaking  the 
pleasure  in  her  voice,  her  unselfish  desire  to  inspirit 
her  aunt.  Gertrude  smiled  rather  absently.  Relieved 
from  the  not  wholly  benevolent  scrutiny  of  her  mother 
and  sister,  she  now  allowed  anxious  thought  to  write 
itself  on  her  face. 

"Would  you  mind,  dear,"  she  said,  "letting  me 
glance  at  that  letter  you  spoke  of — the  letter  Mrs. 
Lancelot  wrote  to  you?  Every  little  helps  one  to 
real  character. — It  is  curious,"  she  added,  as  Coralie 
hastened  to  seek  the  document  in  the  recesses  of  her 
gold-chain  bag,  "  that  you  should  be  already  in 
correspondence  when  you  only  parted  a  few  hours 
ago." 

"  She  didn't  like  the  look  of  my  eye  when  she  and 
mon  preux  drove  off  together  this  morning,  I  take 
it,"  said  the  shrewd  Coralie,  "  and  she  wants  to  keep 
well  with  me,  now  that  I  am  with  grandma  and  all 
that.  She  wants  to  be  able  to  say:  'I  have  just 


54        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

been  to  tea  at  178  Park  Lane — dear  old  Lady 
Enniscorthy's  house.'  Sounds  well,  you  know.  Oh, 
Erny,  when  she  and  dear  old  Lady  EnniscortTiy  meet, 
may  I  be  there  to  see !  Ah,  here  we  are,  aunty : 
'  Yours  sincerely,  Emerald  Fanny,  dash  and  two 
dots.' " 

Lady  Gertrude  took  the  document  and  moved  into 
the  window  to  peruse : 

"  Dearest  Mrs.  Jamieson  "  (ran  the  large,  black, 
angular  hand-writing),  "I  was  so  rushed  at  that 
dreadful  station,  I  don't  think  I  half  said  good-bye, 
not  that  I  want  to  say  good-bye,  but  au  revoir,  and 
very  soon  I  trust — we  mustn't  lose  sight  of  each 
other,  must  we? — you've  been  so  much  to  me  all  these 
months,  I  never  can  forget  how  much.  May  I  come 
and  see  you  to-morrow  about  tea-time?  Don't  trou- 
ble to  write.  I  shall  have  found,  I  hope,  a  hole  for 
my  poor  little  head  by  that  time. — Your's  sincerely, 

"  EMERALD  FANNY — ..  " 

"  I'm  writing  this  from  the  Bachelor's  Club. 
Excuse  scrawl.  I  begin  my  weary  tramp  immedi- 
ately. How  dreadfully  lonely  London  is  1 " 

"  *  Your's,'  with  an  apostrophe — I  hope  you  no- 
ticed," said  Coralie,  anxious  to  do  all  the  honours. 

Lady  Gertrude  held  the  missive  at  arm's  length; 
then  drew  it  slowly  nearer  to  her  and  sniffed  once 
or  twice  gently. 

"  Yes,  yes ! "  cried  her  niece,  falling  into  a  chair 
to  give  way  to  one  of  her  abandoned  gurgles  of 
laughter.  "  She  leaves  the  trail  of  it  on  everything 


THE     STORY    OF    A    DAY        55 

she  touches.  *  You  may  break,  you  may  shatter 
the  vase  if  you  will,'  but  the  scent  of  Emerald  Fanny 
(if  she  happens  to  have  passed  that  way)  will  cling 
round  it  still." 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  asked  Lady  Gertrude,  with  her 
pretty,  smiling  frown. 

"It's  trefte  incarnat. — What?  You  don't  know 
trefte  incarnat?  It  shows  what  high-class,  moral  cir- 
cles you  frequent.  My  dear,  it's  the  kind  of  thing 
that  catches  you  by  the  throat  at  certain  hotels  and 
restaurants — it  just  floats  down  the  river  on  Sunday 
afternoons." 

"  Look  here,  Coralie,"  put  in  Captain  Jamieson, 
with  an  air  of  great  determination,  "  we  must  get 
back  to  town,  you  know ;  and  anyhow,  Aunt 
Gertrude  won't  want  us  here  when  the  chief  ar- 
rives." 

"  You're  not  going  before  tea,"  said  their  aunt. 
"  Ernest,  ring  the  bell,  twice ;  that's  for  tea.  And, 
as  far  as  Reginald  is  concerned,  he'll  be  just  as 
pleased  to  find  you  here  as  I  am  to  keep  you." 

On  his  way  to  the  bell,  Ernest  paused  and  looked 
helplessly  at  his  wife. 

"  Well,"  said  the  latter,  ignoring  the  appeal,  "  I'll 
be  truly  grateful  for  a  cup." 

Unseen  by  her  aunt,  she  made  a  peremptory  mo- 
tion to  her  husband,  who  thereupon,  in  a  state  of 
deep  depression,  pushed  the  electric  button  twice. 
He  had  given  Coralie  credit  for  more  tact.  As  if 
the  situation  had  not  been  atrocious  enough  already, 
they  were  actually  to  run  the  risk  of  being  present 
at  the  prodigal's  return.  Of  course,  Aunt  Gertrude 


56        DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

had  only  spoken  out  of  civility.  No  woman  in  her 
senses  but  would  wish  to  have  the  first  hour  alone 
with  her  husband  in  such  circumstances.  In  his 
masculine  intelligence  he  could  imagine  no  other 
mode  of  procedure  than  an  immediate  matrimonial 
inquisition,  leading  probably  to  condign  punishment 
before  reconciliation. 

But  Coralie  settled  herself  down  to  tea  and  calces 
with  an  air  of  complete  repose.  There  had  been 
some  subtle  feminine  communication  apparently,  for 
Lady  Gertrude  showed  the  most  unmistakable  satis- 
faction :  women  were  incomprehensible  beings ! 

The  poor  soldier,  though  he  had  made  a  very  in- 
sufficient lunch,  hurried  by  his  wife's  desire  to  start, 
could  scarcely  swallow  a  mouthful  of  the  wonderful 
caravan  tea,  much  less  anything  more  substantial. 
His  ear  was  strained  for  the  sound  of  wheels  without ; 
he  rebelled  in  spirit,  and  felt  as  near  exasperation 
against  her  as  was  possible  for  a  man  madly  in  love 
with  his  wife,  as  she  demanded  a  second  cup,  and 
drove  her  small  white  teeth  into  scone  and  sandwich 
with  greedy  deliberation.  He  felt  certain  they  would 
be  caught;  and  what  would  Sir  Reginald  think  to 
find  them  thus  installed  in  his  house?  What  would 
he  think  but  that  they  had  hastened  down,  without 
losing  a  minute,  to  carry  their  tale  of  gossip?  It  was 
bad  enough  for  a  nephew  to  be  found  tattling  about 
his  uncle;  but  for  a  soldier  to  be  reporting  on  his 
chief!  Reporting,  too,  upon  events  which  had  come 
under  the  aide-de-camp's  range  of  observation  while 
enjoying  the  hospitality  of  his  general,  .  .  . 


THE     STORY     OF     A     DAY        57 

It  was  odious !  He  had  been  annoyed  that  Coralie 
should  have  spoken  of  it  at  all,  even  at  Park  Lane; 
but  women,  the  best  of  women,  had  the  most  elemen- 
tary ideas  on  the  subject  of  what  men  call  honour. 

His  forebodings  were  soon  justified.  There  was  a 
grating  sound  on  the  gravel  of  the  sweep,  and  the 
silhouette  of  a  fly,  luggage-topped,  lumbered  past 
the  window. 

"  There's  Reginald,"  said  Lady  .Gertrude,  quietly. 
She  glanced  at  her  watch :  "  Half-past  five.  He's 
earlier  than  I  expected." 

She  rose  and  laughed  a  little  as  she  looked  out 
through  the  distant  window. 

"  Home  in  a  cab,  poor  Reginald !  It's  rather 
humdrum  after  three  years!  Well,  if  he  had  let 
me  know  he  could  have  been  met  in  state  by  the 
carriage,  and  we  should  all  have  been  waiting 
on  the  doorstep  for  him  in  correct  family  style." 

She  took  two  steps  and  paused  a  second,  gazing 
at  her  reflection  in  the  mirror  over  the  mantleshelf. 
There  was  not  a  tendril  out  of  place  on  her  head, 
where,  like  her  mother's,  the  hair  grew  in  crisp, 
thick  waves.  But  she  knew  there  were  one  or  two 
streaks  of  silver  in  the  lustrous  black  that  had  not 
existed  when  her  husband  last  saw  her. 

"  Forty  against  twenty-five  .  .  ."  she  mur- 
mured to  herself,  as  she  moved  towards  the  door. 

Sir  Reginald's  voice  was  already  audible  in  the 
hall. 

"  Oh,  look  here,  Coralie,"  said  the  soldier  in  an 
agony,  "  let's  get  out  of  this — let's  make  a  bolt 


58       DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

of  it — there's  the  conservatory!  This  is  a  regu- 
larly impossible  position.  I'm  not  going  to 
stay." 

Coralie  sprang  to  her  feet  and  nipped  her  hus- 
band's arm  with  fierce  fingers. 

"  You've  got  to  stay,"  she  whispered.  "  Oh, 
Erny,  don't  be  more  of  a  fool  than  you  can  help! 
Can't  you  see  she  wants  us  ?  " 

He  was  destined  to  be  spared  nothing,  for  Ger- 
trude did  not  even  go  into  the  hall  to  meet  the  trav- 
eller. She  stood  just  inside  the  door;  and  Ernest 
was,  not  witness — for  he  turned  his  back  to  look 
miserably  out  on  the  lawn — but  auditor,  of  their 
first  embrace. 

Sir  Reginald  Esdale,  exuberant  in  all  he  did, 
kissed  his  wife  with  unmistakable  enthusiasm  as  he 
clasped  her  to  him. 

"My  darling!" 

Quite  unconscious  of  any  presence  but  hers,  he 
held  her  from  him,  to  look  eagerly  into  the  fair, 
serene  face ;  then  caught  her  to  him  again. 

"  My  darling !  Of  all  the  unlucky  things  that  I 
could  not  get  to  you  before !  The  minutes  have  been 
simply  burning  me " 

The  words  died  on  his  lips.  He  had  caught  sight 
of  Coralie.  For  a  second,  discomfiture — the  more 
marked  because  extremely  unwonted — wrote  itself 
on  his  features. 

"  Good  heavens ! "  he  exclaimed,  then  broke  into 
a  displeased  laugh.  "  Certainly  you  have  lost  no 
time!" 


THE     STORY     OF    A     DAY        59 

In  the  window  recess,  Ernest  could  have  groaned 
aloud.  Coralie  undulated  forward. 

"  No,  dear  uncle ;  you  see,  Aunt  G.  got  a  little 
anxious ;  just  a  little  anxious  at  your  not  appear- 
ing. Telegrams  are  real  evil  things,  if  you're  anx- 
ious. And  so  she  telephoned  to  me,  and  I  made 
Erny  take  me  straight  off,  and  we  put  her  mind  at 
rest  at  once." 

"  Yes,  indeed,  dear  things !  "  said  Lady  Gertrude, 
disengaging  herself  from  the  arms  that  still  mechan- 
ically held  her.  "Wasn't  it  good  of  them?  "  She 
was  smiling  her  placid  smile,  without  apparently  a 
shadow  behind  it. 

"  That  infernal  War  Office "  began  Sir  Reg- 
inald, clearing  his  throat. 

"Erny  told  Aunt  G.  all  about  the  War  Office," 
pursued  Coralie  with  her  inimitable  air  of  innocence. 
"  And  I  told  her  all  about  Mrs.  Lancelot." 

Captain  Jamieson,  who  had  turned  round  in  some 
relief,  here  hastened  to  conceal  his  blushing  counte- 
nance again.  Really,  Coralie  was  beyond  every- 
thing! He  could  not  even  bring  himself  to  picture 
his  uncle's  expression  at  this  announcement. 

"  I'm  so  glad  you  stayed  to  help  the  poor  little 
woman,"  Lady  Gertrude's  voice  rang  out  sweetly 
and  steadily.  "  It  must  be  terribly  sad  for  her. 
She  is  quite  alone  in  the  world,  I  understand.  It  was 
kind  of  you,  Reginald." 

Sir  Reginald's  fine  brown  eyes — eyes,  as  a  rule, 
remarkable  for  their  bold,  frank  outlook,  but  just 
now  a  little  uneasy — shifted  from  one  woman  to  the 


60        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

other.  But  Coralie,  as  has  been  said,  wore  her  most 
convincing  air  of  kitten  innocence;  and  the  serenity 
of  Lady  Gertrude's  face  was  beyond  doubt. 

The  General's  brow  cleared.  After  all,  it  had  been 
sheer  kindness  of  heart,  nothing  else,  that  had  kept 
him  occupied  for  four  solid  hours  that  day,  conduct- 
ing Mrs.  Lancelot  from  apartment  to  apartment. 
He  had  had  no  other  intention,  at  the  start  from 
Southampton,  than  that  of  coming  straight  home; 
although  his  wife  had  shown  no  particular  eagerness 
to  forestall  the  happy  moment  of  meeting.  Yes,- 
here  was  a  fact  that  Gertrude  must  be  made  to  feel. 
But  when  that  little  woman  had  looked  at  him  with 
her  plaintive  eyes,  and  spoken  with  the  quiver  on 
her  lips,  he  couldn't  leave  her  in  the  lurch.  She 
had  stood  by  him  in  his  hours  of  trouble ;  aye,  loyally 
had  she  done  so. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  with  recovered  geniality. — Talk 
of  the  voice  of  conscience,  it  is  the  most  independable 
of  monitors  and  will  say  white  is  black,  and  black 
is  white,  in  the  same  minute,  according  to  the  effect 
produced  by  one's  actions  upon  the  world  at  large! 
Sir  Reginald  was  now  quite  disposed  to  plume  him- 
self upon  what  had  lain  heavy  as  lead  upon  his  soul. 
— "  Yes,  I  felt  you'd  understand ;  I  felt  you  would 
not  have  wished  me  to  act  otherwise.  Poor  Lancelot 
was  a  very  good  friend  of  mine ;  he  was  swept  away 
in  a  few  hours.  Dreadfully  sad!  His  widow  is 
quite  unprovided  for ;  homeless,  friendless  !  " 

"  Not  friendless,"  said  Lady  Gertrude.  Somehow 
the  gentle  words  robbed  the  General  of  his  assurance. 


THE     STORY     OF     A     DAY        61 

He  turned  to  his  nephew,  and,  in  a  forcibly  jovial 
voice : 

"  Ah,  Ernest,  what  are  you  doing  there  in  the 
corner? "  he  cried.  "  So  here  we  are  again,  old 
man!" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Ernest  dismally.  "  Here  we  are 
again." 

Coralie  had  sat  down  and  Sir  Reginald  followed 
her  example. 

"  There  are  some  real  cunning  cakes  here," 
said  Mrs.  Jamieson,  "  just  piping  hot.  Aunt  G. 
is  so  dodgy  with  her  little  spirit  lamps." 

The  General  popped  a  scone  into  his  mouth,  as 
Ernest  saw  with  amazement.  The  man  could  actu- 
ally eat !  Lady  Gertrude  bent  over  her  husband  and 
placed  a  fragrant  cup  before  him. 

"  I  have  not  forgotten  how  you  like  it,"  she  said, 
"  unless  your  tastes  have  changed." 

He  looked  up  at  her  fondly. 

"  No,  indeed — not  where  anything  you  do  is  con- 
cerned." 

Coralie  gave  a  sniff  which  tilted  her  pert  lip  more 
pertly  than  ever;  they  had  made  it  just  a  trifle  too 
easy  for  him,  she  thought.  So,  apparently,  thought 
Lady  Gertrude  also ;  for,  her  hand  on  her  husband's 
shoulder,  as  she  stood  behind  him,  she  sniffed,  too, 
very  delicately. 

"  You've  got  a  new,  strange  scent  about  you,  Reg- 
inald; I  am  not  quite  sure  that  I  like  it." 

"Scent?"  said  the  General.  "Never  used  such 
a  thing  in  my  life." 


62       DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

"  I  perceive  it,  too,"  said  Coralie,  blinking  and 
looking  innocent.  "Oh,  what  is  it?" 

Captain  Jamieson  retired  precipitately  to  the 
window  bow. 

"  It's  some  stuff  you've  got  on,  yourself,  I  should 
think,"  said  Sir  Reginald,  not  altogether  pleasantly, 
and  took  up  his  cup  again. 

"I?  Nothing  ever  approaches  me  but  Florentine 
orris  root,"  cried  she.  "  This  is  quite  different ;  yet 
strangely  familiar,  somehow." 

"  Some  perfume  of  the  East,  no  doubt,"  said  Lady 
Gertrude  suavely.  "  It  clings  to  him  still,  Coralie. 
But  our  wholesome  English  air  will  soon  blow  it 
away. — I  hope  you  were  able  to  find  nice  rooms  for 
Mrs.  Lancelot,  Reginald?  " 

"  Well,  as  a  matter  of  fact,"  said  the  General, 
and  his  roaming  look  of  uneasiness  became  more  pro- 
nounced; he  feigned  an  extreme  interest  in  exam- 
ining each  dish  of  cakes  and  sandwiches,  "  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  we  saw  one  set  of  apartments  after 
another,  but  there  were  drawbacks  to  every  one 
of  them." 

It  was  strange  how  these  insurmountable  draw- 
backs had  cropped  up  under  the  little  woman's  plaint- 
ive eye.  He  himself  had  been  much  taken  with  some 
of  the  rooms.  The  rent  was  not  to  trouble  her. 
(It  did  not  trouble  her;  she  had  a  touching  confi- 
dence in  his  business  powers,  poor  little  thing.) 
But — well,  she  was  sensitive.  He  cleared  his 
throat. 

"  She  was  so  tired  in  the  end  that  I  just  popped 


THE     STORY    OF    A    DAY        63 

her  into  the  Hyde  Park  Hotel.  Told  her  she  had 
better  put  up  there  for  a  few  days;  give  her  time 
to  look  round." 

"  Oh,  I  hope  you  made  her  take  one  of  those 
darling  little  suites  with  balconies  hanging  over 
the  park !  "  cried  his  niece  fervently.  "  Ernest,  when 
we  quarrel  with  grandma,  you'll  take  me  to  the  Hyde 
Park  Hotel?" 

"  I'm  not  a  millionaire ! "  growled  Captain 
Jamieson. 

That  was  just  what  she  wanted  him  to  say.  It 
was  the  dear  thing  about  Ernest  that  he  never  failed 
to  fall  in  if  she  laid  the  proper  trap  for  him. 

He  choked  now  over  the  enormity  of  his  remark, 
while  she  laughed  luxuriously.  The  General  eyed 
her  hard.  If  he  could  ever  have  been  said  to  dislike 
a  pretty  young  woman,  he  might  have  been  said  to 
dislike  Coralie.  Had  he  not  but  just  announced 
that  Mrs.  Lancelot  was  left  totally  unprovided  for? 
There  are  times  when  the  wholesomeness  of  the  scrip- 
tural injunction,  "  Let  not  thy  right  hand  know 
what  thy  left  hand  doeth,"  seems  to  be  particularly 
borne  in  upon  the  soul. 

Now  Lady  Gertrude  spoke  again.  This  time  he 
was  less  sure  than  before  that  there  was  nothing 
suspicious  about  her  unruffled  sweetness. 

"In  an  hotel?  Oh,  no,  Reginald,  we  must  not 
have  that,  must  we?  We  must  think  of  something 
better  for  her." 

"  Well,  I  must  think  of  going,"  said  Coralie,  who 
deemed  that  she  had  co-operated  sufficiently  and 


64        DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

that  the  time  had  come  to  leave  her  aunt  to  deal 
with  the  culprit  alone.  But  Ernest  felt  past  being 
thankful.  He  could  not  meet  his  uncle's  glance;  he 
thought  it  was  reproachful  and  astonished. 

"  There's  just  one  little  thing  I  want  you  to  do 
for  me  on  your  way  back,"  said  Lady  Gertrude, 
as  she  moved  away  towards  her  writing-table.  "  I 
want  you  to  send  a  telegram. — Oh,  no,"  she  went  on, 
musingly,  "  we  cannot  leave  the  poor  little  woman 
alone  in  an  hotel !  Why,  didn't  she  nurse  you,  Reg- 
inald, when  you  had  that  nasty  little  attack  of 
fever?"  She  was  writing  rapidly  as  she  spoke. 

"  It  was  touch  and  go ! "  said  the  General  theat- 
rically. 

"  I'm  so  glad  I  never  knew  till  it  was  over ! "  said 
the  imperturbable  wife.  She  rose  and  came  towards 
him.  "  Read  it,  dear,"  she  said.  "  I  feel  it  is  what 
you  would  like  me  to  do." 

Was  there  a  hint  of  malice  in  this  repetition  of  his 
own  phrase? 

Coralie  became  absorbed  in  the  tying  up  of  her 
pretty  little  head  before  the  mirror.  Ernest  had 
gone  out  into  the  hall;  he  could  bear  no  more. 

"  Well,  you  know ;  really,  Gertrude  ..." 
began  Sir  Reginald  weakly,  after  he  had  read. 

All  at  once  his  jaw  dropped,  his  eye  became  fixed, 
as  if  fascinated.  His  wife's  white  hand  had  moved 
from  his  arm  to  his  breast;  and  thence  the  taper 
fingers  picked  off — oh,  horror,  a  long  hair;  a  long 
golden  hair!  He  glanced  despairingly  at  the 
smooth,  parted  tresses  beneath  which  Gertrude's 


THE  TAPER  FINGERS  PICKED  OFF— A  LONG  GOLDEN  HAIR 


THE     STORY     OF     A     DAY        65 

brow  shone  forth  so  untroubled.     Impossible!     No 

sane  eye  could  connect  that   aggressive  thread  of 

yellow   gossamer   with   those  raven   waves. 

And  now  she  was  beginning  to  wind  it  round  her 

finger,  so  that  its  colour  grew  more  and  more  into 

prominence. 

The  telegram  shook  in  his  hand.  As  he  had  parted 
from  Emerald,  in  the  pretty  bijou  sitting-room  over- 
looking the  park,  she  had  been  overtaken  by  one  of 
her  touching  fits  of  emotion  while  trying  to  thank 
him  for  "  what  he  had  been  "  to  her,  in  her  "  sorrow." 
He  could  not  let  her  sob  without  attempting  some 
consolation ;  mere  humanity  forbade  it.  And  though 
his  soul  was  white  as  the  driven  snow — though  there 
never  had  been  anything,  on  either  side,  but  the  most 
virtuous  attachment,  yet — well,  that  was  a  most  con- 
foundedly yellow  hair! 

Lady  Gertrude  had  made  a  complete  ring  of  it. 
She  removed  it  from  her  finger  and  gazed  at  it  pen- 
sively. Then,  turning  to  her  niece,  with  a  delicate 
little  flip,  she  sent  it  into  the  ferns  filling  the  grate. 

"  You'll  send  that  telegram  for  me,  before  you 
leave  Windsor,  dear?  " 

Sir  Reginald  handed  it  without  a  word.  He  could 
not  have  framed  one  of  his  airy  phrases  to  save  his 
life. 

"  There's  the  car,"  said  Lady  Gertrude.  "  Good- 
bye ! "  She  held  Coralie,  for  a  moment  or  two,  very 
closely  to  her. 

"  Good-bye,  honey ! "  answered  the  little  Ameri- 
can, with  sudden  tenderness.  "  That  tiara,"  she 


66       DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

whispered,  as  her  uncle  strode  into  the  hall,  "  it's  as 
good  as  blazing  on  your  brow." 

She  had  stuffed  the  telegram  into  her  bag,  without 
reading  it. 

Husband  and  wife  were  alone  together.  The  man 
wheeled  upon  the  woman,  with  a  sudden  displeased 
frown: 

"  And  where's  Norah?  "  he  asked. 


"  Now,  you  don't  go  a  minute  quicker  than  twelve 
miles  till  I've  read  this  telegram,"  said  Coralie,  as 
under  her  husband's  skilful  guidance  the  car  swept 
out  of  the  avenue  gates.  It  was  a  neat  little  Hum- 
ber,  hired  that  morning,  almost  Captain  Jamieson's 
first  act  on  their  arrival. 

Coralie  could  not  live  without  a  motor.  There 
were  many  things  Coralie  could  not  live  without — 
Paris  frocks,  the  last  fancies  in  trinkets,  flowers  in 
every  living-room,  constant  theatres  when  they  were 
available,  and  the  little  supper  parties  a  deux.  Cap- 
tain Jamieson  could  not  complain,  for  he  was  invari- 
ably one  of  the  two;  and  it  was  for  him  that  the 
dainty  garments  were  donned ;  for  him  that  the  pre- 
cious little  being  decked  herself  and  moved  in  an 
atmosphere  of  fragrant  coquetry.  She  had  brought 
him  money  enough  to  be  indulged  in  all  her  whims, 
and  he  saw  to  it  that  every  farthing  was  spent  on 
herself.  Except  where  he  was  made  participator  in 
her  little  extravagances,  such  as  in  the  question  of 
the  motor,  the  soldier  lived  his  simple  life  by  her 
side — stinting  himself  in  many  small  things,  so  that 
her  prettiest  jewels  should  be  his  gift,  as  well  as  an 
occasional  "  honeymoon  "  excursion.  Thus  Coralie 
enjoyed  all  the  privileges  of  a  very  rich  woman, 

67 


68        DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

while  her  husband,  who  was  not  a  rich  man,  kept  his 
self-respect. 

Dearly  as  he  loved  her,  he  was  not  pleased  with  her 
this  evening;  therefore,  while  he  slowed  down  obedi- 
ently, he  kept  his  head  averted  from  her. 

Unconcernedly,  she  produced  the  telegram  from 
her  bag ;  gave  a  cry  of  astonishment,  then  her  croon 
of  laughter : 

"  Ernest ! — you'd  never ! — I  knew  Aunt  G.  was  a 
clever  woman,  but — well,  this  just  beats  me.  Oh, 
my,  it  is  daring !  " 

The  man  beside  her  grunted. 

Coralie  was  no  whit  dashed  by  his  want  of  sym- 
pathy. 

"  The  darling,  lie's  in  one  of  his  little  tantrums!  " 
She  never  bestowed  more  attention  than  this  upon  his 
moods.  He  had,  perhaps,  not  a  very  good  temper; 
but  it  would  have  been  a  churlish  nature  indeed,  that 
could  resist  Coralie's  wheedling  smile.  It  was  one  of 
the  secrets  of  her  power,  of  the  extraordinary  suc- 
cess of  their  marriage,  that  she  never  noticed  his 
humours.  Thus  they  passed  without  leaving  any 
shadow  behind,  while  she  remained  as  spoilt  and 
adored  as  on  her  wedding  trip. 

It  might  have  been  because  of  the  well-known  mol- 
lifying effect  of  that  smile  that  he  so  rigidly  avoided 
looking  at  her  now;  but  he  could  not  shut  out  the 
voice  which  not  even  the  pitch  requisite  to  dominate 
the  song  of  the  speed  could  rob  of  its  music. 

"  Now,  you've  got  to  hear  this.  This  is  Aunt 
G.'s  telegram :  *  Mrs.  Lancelot,  Hyde  Park  Hotel.' 


THE     STORY     OF    A     DAY        69 

(Hasn't  she  cheek,  with  her  Hyde  Park  Hotel? 
Do  you  know,  she  said  to  me  once  on  board  ship  that 
one  of  those  dear  little  suites  hanging  over  the  park 
was  her  idea  of  a  London  pied-a-terre.  She,  with 
her  two  hundred  a  year!  She  couldn't  spell  pride, 
if  she  were  to  try.  It  would  run  out  paid  under  her 
pen.)  Listen,  she's  met  her  match: 

"  *  We  both  hope  you  will  come  here  at  once  for  a 
long  visit.  It  will  be  a  great  pleasure  to  me  if  you 
can  come.  GERTRUDE  ESDALE,  Orange  Court,  Wind- 
sor. Reply  paid.' 

"  My  goodness,  Ernest!  " 

It  had  taken  some  time  for  the  monstrous  meaning 
of  the  words  to  penetrate  to  Ernest's  brain ;  but  when 
it  did  so,  the  effect  upon  him  was  so  remarkable  that 
he  lost  his  control  of  the  machine,  and  under  a  sud- 
den startled  grip  the  little  Humber  made  a  danger- 
ous swerve. 

"  Good  heavens !  "  he  said,  as  he  righted  her ;  and 
the  solemn  ejaculation  was  not  drawn  from  him  by 
the  momentary  danger,  but  by  the  realisation  of  his 
aunt's  inconceivable  strategy.  "  You're  not  going 
to  send  that! — Oh,  come,"  he  broke  into  an  unwil- 
ling laugh,  "  you've  made  it  up  yourself,  you  little 
mischief !  " 

"  Not  I,"  chuckled  she.  "  Now,  don't  run  us  into 
the  ditch  again,  there's  a  darling!  It's  as  sober 
earnest  as  you  are  yourself.  It's  something  also 
you're  not,  my  old  bear — it's  the  cleverest  thing  I've 
met  in  all  my  life !  " 

"  Humph !  "  remarked  the  soldier.     He  was  rumi- 


70        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

nating  deeply  as  he  increased  speed  along  the  wind- 
ing road  that  led  to  the  town ;  a  road  skirting  the 
flush  waters  of  the  lazy  river  and  dominated  by  the 
high  walls  and  terraces  of  the  Castle,  now  darkly 
drawn  against  the  growing  saffron  of  the  evening 
sky. 

"  Stop  at  the  first  post-office,"  ordered  Coralie. 

They  breasted  Thames  Street  in  a  succession  of 
rushes  and  twists ;  and  as  at  length  they  halted, 
Captain  Jamieson  turned  a  very  serious  countenance 
upon  his  wife: 

"  Coralie,  this  is  a  dangerous  piece  of  work.  Give 
me  that  telegram,  and  I'll  post  it  back  to  Aunt  Ger- 
trude. She'll  thank  me  for  it,  if  she's  the  sensible 
woman  I  take  her  for." 

"  I'm  going  to  give  you  that  telegram,"  answered 
his  wife,  with  the  closest  imitation  she  could  contrive 
of  his  solemn  manner,  "  and  you're  going  to  send  it 
off  in  the  usual  telegraphic  way.  Aunt  G.  is  a  more 
sensible  woman  than  your  old  artillery  head  can  con- 
ceive. When  we  women  fight,  my  beloved  owl,  we 
don't  do  it  with  cannon-balls ! " 

Without  another  word  the  soldier  took  the  sheet 
of  paper  and  disappeared  into  the  recesses  of  the 
post-office.  When  he  returned  he  was  still  gloomy; 
but  Coralie  was  laughing  all  by  herself.  He  shook 
his  head  as  he  lumbered  into  the  car. 

"  It's  undignified — it's  not  fair  to  Uncle  Reginald, 
and  it's  a  deuced  dangerous  scheme,"  he  insisted  as 
he  drew  on  his  gloves. 

"  There's  only  one  woman  in  the  world,"  retorted 


THE     STORY     OF    A     DAY        71 

his  wife,  "  that  could  carry  it  out,  but  she'll  do  it 
incomparably.  Dignity?  You  can  trust  Aunt  G. 
for  that.  She'll  act  hostess  to  that  creature,  like  a 
queen.  Danger?  The  real  danger  is  in  Uncle  Reg- 
inald being  inveigled  into  going  up  perpetually  to 
Emerald  Fanny  on  the  sly,  and  getting  into  a  regu- 
lar false  position." 

"  Well,  I  don't  pretend  to  understand  women," 
said  the  artilleryman,  shaking  himself  into  his  seat; 
"  but  Aunt  Gertrude  can't  care  much  about  Uncle 
Reginald,  that's  clear." 

"  No,"  said  Coralie,  "  you  men  don't  understand 
women,  and  it's  a  very  good  thing.  We  don't  want 
to  be  understood — by  men.  At  least  if  we  have  a 
grain  of  intelligence,  we  know  better  than  to  want 
that.  Now,  put  on  your  goggles,  for  I  mean  to  be 
taken  back  full  speed." 

She  drew  the  flung-back  square  of  veil  over  her 
face  as  she  spoke  and  settled  herself  in  her  wraps  for 
private  thought.  As  her  husband  drove  her  gently 
down  the  steep  gradient,  and  then,  with  gathering 
rapidity,  in  and  out  of  the  narrowing  streets — the 
horn  perpetually  tooting — now  and  again  a  small 
giggle  escaped  her;  but  for  the  chief  part  she  was 
grave. 

The  memory  was  ever  recurrent  to  her  of  her 
aunt's  parting  embrace.  How  closely  she  had  been 
held  and  in  what  silence !  She  still  felt  the  pressure 
of  Lady  Gertrude's  arms,  with  the  slight  tremor  in 
them,  and  of  that  kiss — mutely  passionate.  She 
was  perhaps  alone  in  the  world  to  guess  what  a 


72        DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

depth  of  affection  lay  under  so  much  reserve.  Even 
Norah,  the  object  of  her  tireless  devotion,  of  an  al- 
most abnormal  tenderness,  had  never  discovered  the 
secret  of  her  mother's  nature.  Aunt  Gertrude  not 
care?  Coralie  knew  better.  She  knew  how  the 
proud  heart  suffered,  though  the  proud  head  was  held 
so  high.  She  understood  the  nature  that  could 
gather  dignity  about  humiliation  like  a  mantle ;  that 
could  play  a  great  game  for  a  great  stake  and 
smile  with  unruffled  placidity;  so  that  none  should 
guess  all  the  hazard  meant. 

"  Where  is  Norah  ?  "  had  asked  Sir  Reginald. 

Lady  Gertrude  started  a  little;  she  had  almost 
forgotten  her  child.  Up  to  this  moment  the  father 
had  forgotten  her,  too ;  yet  it  was  three  years  since 
he  had  seen  her.  She  looked  at  the  clock. 

"Norah?  It  is  Norah's  afternoon  at  the  studio. 
She  ought  to  be  back  by  now,  yet  I  have  not  heard 
the  car." 

Sir  Reginald  looked,  as  he  felt,  deeply  aggrieved. 

"  I  don't  think  I  am  an  exacting  man,"  he  said 
with  a  bitter  twist  of  his  handsome  lip ;  "  and,  of 
course,  I  know  the  ideas  which  led  you  to  forego 
meeting  me  after  my  long  absence — whatever  I  may 
think  of  them.  But  that  my  only  child  should  not 
be  here  to  welcome  me,  when  it  is  so  long  since  I 
have  seen  her "  He  paused,  choking  a  little. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  said  his  wife  humbly,  "  I  ought 
not  to  have  sent  her.  But  I  did  not  expect  you  so 
early,  dear.  You  see,  you  said,  'this  evening*  in 


THE     STORY     OF    A     DAY        73 

your  telegram.  And  somehow,  these  summer  days, 
it  seems  hardly  to  be  evening  until  after  the  sun 
goes  down.  Everything  had  been  put  off  against 
your  arrival,  and  Norah  had  been  given  her  half- 
holiday — when  your  news  came." 

With  the  memory  of  the  wording  of  his  telegram : 
"  Important  business ;"  with  the  consciousness  of 
what  that  business  had  been,  and  of  his  wife's  knowl- 
edge of  it;  in  front  of  the  gentle  penitence  of  her 
demeanour  when  she  could  so  naturally  have  retorted 
upon  him,  Sir  Reginald  could  hardly  keep  up  his 
attitude  of  injury.  And  yet  a  little  injury  on  his 
side  would  have  been  vastly  comforting  just  then. 
He  had  not  anticipated  such  a  home-coming,  such 
discomforting  results  to  what  had  been  so  pleasant 
an  episode  hitherto. 

He  thought  of  the  recently  despatched  invitation, 
of  the  threatened  visit,  with  positive  alarm.  Emer- 
ald Fanny  in  the  cosy  little  sitting-room  over  the 
park,  smiling  at  her  preux  with  adoring  eyes,  or 
clinging  to  her  generous  friend  with  tears,  was  an 
agreeable  perspective.  But  Emerald  Fanny  under 
his  own  roof,  within  range  of  Lady  Gertrude's  quiet 
gaze,  within  sound  of  that  fastidious  ear,  was  a 
different  prospect  indeed.  He  could  not  feel  sure 
of  the  complete  discretion  of  petite  madame.  If  she 
had  a  fault — and  he  had  not  yet  found  it  in  his 
heart  to  blame  her  for  it — it  was  that  she  had  al- 
lowed herself  to  display  too  openly  an  absorbing 
attachment  for  himself. 

He  glanced  in  doubt  at  Lady  Gertrude,  turning 


74       DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

over  two  or  three  schemes  in  his  head  for  averting 
the  complication.  Should  he  send  Mrs.  Lancelot 
a  private  message  begging  her  to  refuse?  Impossi- 
ble! That  would  be  to  give  their  friendship  a  col- 
our which,  hitherto,  both,  however  delicately  ap- 
proaching the  shade,  had  skilfully  avoided.  Should 
he  argue  the  matter  with  Gertrude?  Upon  what 
plea?  The  only  possible  one  would  be  his  desire  to 
be  alone  with  her  these  first  days  of  reunion ;  and  he 
could  not  bring  himself  to  face  her  with  such  an 
argument,  after  what  had  occurred.  And,  indeed, 
what  excuse  could  then  be  given  for  the  recall  of 
the  invitation  to  the  expected  guest  herself?  He 
sat  silent,  feeling  hopelessly  nonplussed:  an  extraor- 
dinary sensation  and  a  miserable  one  to  the  suc- 
cessful man. 

He  presently  perceived  that  his  wife  was  possessed 
by  some  disturbing  thought,  not  connected  with  him- 
self. She  went  to  the  window  and  looked  out,  con- 
sulted the  clock,  aimlessly  rearranged  the  cups  on 
the  tea-tray,  and  turned  to  the  window  again. 
Finally  her  anxiety  found  words: 

"  The  child  ought  to  be  back." 

"  With  a  motor  you  never  can  tell,"  said  Sir 
Reginald,  meaning,  in  his  masculine  way,  to  be  con- 
soling. 

The  mother's  cheek  went  white. 

*'  I  wonder,  could  they  have  come  back,  and  could 
she  have  gone  straight  to  the  schoolroom  ? "  she 
cried,  and  pressed  the  bell  urgently. 

"  Surely,"  said  Sir  Reginald,  a  little  sarcastically, 


THE     STORY     OF    A     DAY        75 

"  some  elementary  idea  of  filial  respect,  if  not  spon- 
taneous to  her  nature,  might  have  been  included  in 
her  curriculum." 

But  Lady  Gertrude  turned  a  blank  glance  upon 
him. 

"  She  did  not  want  to  go  to  the  studio  to-day," 
she  said  absently.  "  Oh,  Barker,"  as  that  worthy 
presented  himself,  "has  Miss  Norah  returned 
yet?" 

"  No,  my  lady." 

"  Are  you  sure,  Barker?  She  might  have  gone  in 
by  the  back  way.  Inquire  in  the  yard  if  Binks  is 
back." 

"  Mr.  Binks  never  went  out,  my  lady." 

"  What!  "  ejaculated  the  astounded  mistress. 

"  Leastways,  my  lady,  he  brought  the  car  round  in 
due  course.  But  his  lordship " 

"His  lordship?"  interrupted  Lady  Gertrude 
sharply. 

"  Yes,  my  lady.  Lord  Enniscorthy,  my  lady.  He 
come  in  his  car,  and  he  tells  Mr.  Binks  he  isn't 
wanted,  and  his  lordship  and  Miss  Norah  have  gone 
off  together." 

Relief  and  anger  wrote  themselves  in  variation  of 
colour  on  Lady  Gertrude's  ivory-fair  cheek.  Her 
husband  sat  listening  intently.  He  was  glad  to 
receive  early  lights  on  the  subject  of  his  daughter's 
upbringing — was  it  not  for  this  superlative  educa- 
tion that  he  had  been,  much  against  his  will,  ruth- 
lessly left  to  his  own  resources  abroad? 

"  What,"  cried  Lady  Gertrude,  "  against  my  ex- 


76       DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

press  orders  ? — Where  is  Fraulein  ?  This  is  an  intol- 
erable breach  of  duty !  " 

It  was  not  often  she  allowed  herself  to  show  so 
much  emotion  before  witnesses. 

"  Freline's  ill  in  bed,  my  lady.  Miss  Esdale  sent 
up  the  doctor  to  her,  when  she  went  off  in  the  car 
with  his  lordship — and  he's  just  left,  my  lady." 

"  Left — Doctor  Somers  called  and  left  without 
speaking  to  me?  " 

"  It  wasn't  Doctor  Somers,  my  lady.  It  was  the 
assistant,  a  young  gentleman,  who  is  noo  to  the 
place.  He  did  ask  to  see  your  ladyship,  but  I  could 
not  take  upon  myself  to  permit  it,  seeing  Sir  Reg- 
inald had  just  arrived.  I  understand  he  thinks  very 
seriously  of  Freline — very  seriously  indeed." 

"  Upon  my  word,"  said  Lady  Gertrude,  "  I  think 
you  are  all  mad.  Someone  must  have  seen  the  doc- 
tor, I  suppose?  Did  he  leave  his  instructions  with 
you?" 

"  No,  my  lady,"  said  Barker,  with  an  air  of  out- 
raged dignity.  What  had  he  to  do  with  governesses  ? 
"  The  medical  gentleman  give  his  instructions  to  Miss 
Carter.  And  she  come  down  to  me  for  brandy." 

"  Brandy !  "  Lady  Gertrude  looked  alarmed.  "  I 
must  see  to  this,"  she  said.  "  That  will  do,  Barker." 

She  turned  to  her  husband. 

"  Norah  has  played  truant,  as  you  have  heard," 
she  said,  trying  to  speak  lightly ;  "  she  has  gone  for 
a  motor  drive  with  her  cousin.  Enniscorthy  has 
become  a  charming  young  man;  you  will  like  him. 
He  has  a  capital  chauffeur,  so  I'm  not  in  the  least 


THE     STORY     OF    A    DAY        77 

anxious  about  her,  but  she  is  a  naughty  little  puss 
to  have  taken  French  leave  like  that." 

It  was,  for  many  reasons,  the  last  of  her  wishes  to 
exaggerate  the  child's  offence  in  the  father's  ears. 
But  Sir  Reginald  looked  at  her  sardonically. 

"  You'd  better  go  and  see  about  your  sick  gov- 
erness," he  said.  "  The  butler  will  show  me  a  room 
where  I  can  smoke,  no  doubt.  Don't  you  trouble ;  I'll 
ring  the  bell." 

He  smiled  a  little  as  the  door  closed  on  his  wife's 
quietly  obedient  exit.  There  was  a  good  deal  to  be 
said  on  his  side,  after  all,  or  so  the  thought  struck 
him. 

"  Yes,  my  lady."  The  upper  housemaid  (Miss 
Carter  to  the  household,  Ann  to  her  mistress)  was 
speaking,  filled  with  that  gloomy  gusto  with  which 
servants  invariably  impart  bad  news.  "  Frawlin 
was  taken  bad  very  sudden.  Very  sudden  indeed. 
She  rang  her  bell  just  upon  half-past  two.  *  Help 
me  to  bed,'  she  says,  *  for  I'm  feeling  awful  bad,'  she 
says.  And  she  did  look  bad.  *  I  must  take  powders 
at  once,'  she  says.  *  That  will  bring  down  the  fever.' 
So  I  give  her  two  or  three  powders  out  of  the  box, 
and  she  takes  two.  *  The  fever  was  that  high,'  she 
says.  And  then  she  asks  for  two  hot  bottles  and 
tells  me  to  leave  her  quiet.  And  there  wasn't  an 
hour  go  by  when  her  bell  rings  again,  and  I  run  in 
and  she  was  sitting  up  in  bed,  looking  awful,  my 
lady.  And  I  say  to  her,  'Whatever  is  the  matter, 
Frawlin?'  And  she  says,  'Oh,  Ann,  I  think  I'm 


78       DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

going  to  doy.'  And,  oh,  my  lady,  I  thought  she'd 
have  doyed  in  my  arms ;  she  was  shaking  all  over, 
her  heart  beating  that  awful " 

"  And  you  never  thought  of  sending  for  me?  " 
said  Lady  Gertrude. 

"  Oh,  my  lady,"  answered  the  maid,  with  her  head 
on  one  side.  "  I  didn't  like  to,  and  Sir  Reginald 
only  just  'ome !  " 

Exasperation  seized  upon  Lady  Gertrude's  disci- 
plined soul.  "  You  should  have  come  to  me  at  once," 
she  said  severely. 

Ann,  who  had  a  sensitive  nature,  instantly  grew 
pink  about  the  eyelids,  and  was  smitten  with  a  con- 
vulsive working  of  the  throat.  Her  mistress,  how- 
ever, allowed  her  no  time  for  emotion.  A  series  of 
brisk  questions  elicited  that  the  doctor,  who  was  a 
very  nice  young  gentleman  indeed,  had  said  "  Fraw- 
lin  "  had  been  seized  with  influenza  in  one  of  its 
severest  forms  and  that  the  fever  having  been  so  high 
and  fallen  so  sudden  like,  with  such  a  pulse,  was  a 
very  alarming  symptom.  Only  that  her  ladyship  had 
sent  for  her,  she,  Ann,  ought  not  to  have  left  Fraw- 
lin  for  a  moment.  She  had  been  ordered  to  admin- 
ister brandy  and  Brand's  essence  alternate  every 
half-hour.  The  doctor  had  announced  his  return 
for  the  evening. 

Lady  Gertrude  immediately  repaired  to  the  suf- 
ferer. By  the  shaded  light  in  the  curtained  room, 
Fraulein's  face  on  the  pillow  looked  wizened  and  yel- 
low enough  to  justify  the  most  pessimistic  forebod- 
ing; and  Lady  Gertrude,  who  had  been  very  indig- 


THE     STORY    OF    A    DAY        79 

nant  with  her  for  her  breach  of  duty,  felt  the  last 
flicker  of  maternal  wrath  die  away  in  dismay.  The 
little  German  moaned  a  feeble  complaint ;  and  after 
feeling  her  pulse,  which  she  found  indeed  exceedingly 
quick  and  low,  her  employer  withdrew  with  a  hope- 
less sensation  that  the  world  was  out  of  joint,  be- 
yond the  power  of  her  setting  it  right. 

She  stood  a  moment  in  the  wide  passage  outside 
the  schoolroom  wing.  The  corridor  windows  gave 
on  to  the  front ;  and  the  fine  elm  avenue,  one  of  the 
features  of  the  place,  was  bathed  in  the  mellow 
radiance  of  the  June  evening.  It  was  a  wonderfully 
English,  wonderfully  peaceful  outlook;  the  sloping 
green  turf,  the  century-old  trees,  the  shrubberies  of 
rhododendrons  still  in  their  pride,  with  the  orange 
flame  of  the  American  azalea,  triumphant  against 
the  dimmer  shades  of  purple,  rose,  and  mauve.  The 
lawn  before  the  house  was  girdled  by  a  semicircular 
sweep  of  low,  antique  walls,  ending  in  gateposts, 
topped  with  huge  balls.  Those  very  gates  had 
swung  back  in  their  day  to  admit  no  less  a  personage 
than  good  Queen  Charlotte,  calling  to  drink  a  "  dish 
of  tay  "  with  the  noble  lady  for  whose  dower-retreat 
the  house  had  been  built.  She,  too,  had  been  a  friend 
of  Mrs.  Delany  and,  out  of  the  gardens  of  Orange 
Court,  celebrated  from  the  first,  many  a  flower  had 
been  culled  to  serve  as  model  for  those  pathetically 
futile  works  of  art  which  kept  the  pretty  old  fingers 
so  busy. 

But  it  was  not  of  such  bygone  times  that  the 
present  owner  was  thinking.  The  pungent  scent 


80       DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

of  azalea  and  lime-blossom,  floating  in  to  her,  min- 
gled itself  with  an  aroma  arising  from  the  house 
itself,  and  very  new  to  its  atmosphere :  the  breath  of 
a  superlative  cigar.  The  appeal  to  the  senses  which 
the  nostrils  convey  is  of  all  others  the  most  potent. 
That  odd  medley  of  essences  brought  back  heaven 
knows  what  memories  of  days  of  courtship,  days  of 
early  marriage,  days  of  fulness  of  love  to  Gertrude 
Esdale's  heart,  and  stirred  it  profoundly. 

Lady  Gertrude  was,  of  all  things,  a  just  woman, 
an  unselfish  woman.  She  had  pandered  to  a  weak- 
ness of  her  own:  her  dread  of  outward  displays  of 
feelings — emotion  being  with  her  a  sacred  and  hid- 
den thing.  And  by  refusing  her  husband  the  con- 
ventional welcome  she  had  partly  brought  upon 
herself  the  punishment  of  this  sordid  home-coming. 
For  Emerald  Fanny  she  did  not  hold  herself  respon- 
sible ;  as  she  had  seen  her  duty,  when  she  left  husband 
for  child,  she  saw  it  still;  the  child  had  most  need 
of  her.  Yet  it  was,  after  all,  the  child  who  had 
dealt  her  the  wound  that  hurt  her  deepest  of  all  the 
stabs  of  this  afternoon  of  ugliness  and  sorrow. 

"  I  can  trust  Norah,"  she  had  proudly  told  her 
mother  that  day.  How  had  Norah  fulfilled  that 
boast? 

As  she  stood,  yielding  herself  to  bitterness,  a  hum- 
ming sound  grew  upon  her  ear,  increasing  to  the 
measured  throbs  of  a  swiftly  driven  motor  car. 

Enniscorthy's  yellow  Mercedes  glided,  fantastically 
catching  flashes  of  sunlight,  in  its  progress,  up  the 
avenue,  between  the  ranked  elms.  Lady  Gertrude's 


81 

heart  leaped;  her  darling  was  safe  back.  She  drew 
the  fluttering  muslin  window  curtain  forward  as  a 
screen  and  stood  to  watch  behind  it.  The  truants 
came  boldly  in  by  the  front.  Lady  Gertrude  was 
glad  of  that.  She  hated  hole-and-corner  doings  as 
she  hated  dust  and  grime.  Norah's  voice,  not  low- 
ered one  jot  below  its  usual  gay  pitch,  reached  the 
listener  and  drew  an  unconscious  smile. 

"  Oh,  Enn,  it's  been  just  too  ripping,  and  I  don't 
care  a  brass  button  whether  I'm  flayed  alive  or  not! 
I  would  not  have  lost  my  spin  with  you  for  worlds 
and  worlds." 

Lady  Gertrude  peered  down,  her  maternal  eye 
appraising  every  detail  of  the  dainty  figure  in  its 
white  motor  coat  and  winged  hat,  its  white  wash- 
leather  gloves  and  floating  veil.  She  could  not  see 
the  girl's  face ;  but  she  had  a  glimpse  of  the  wonder- 
ful long  plait  of  hair  swinging  as  Norah  sprang  out 
of  the  car.  Young  Enniscorthy  was  strangely 
silent.  He  helped  his  cousin  with  the  courtesy  pecu- 
liar to  him,  and  steadied  her  as  she  clung  to  him, 
laughing,  after  her  jump. 

"  They  make  a  pretty  couple,"  thought  the 
mother. 

"  Good-bye,  Enn,  darling !  "  came  the  clear  voice. 

"  Sure  you're  all  right  now? "  was  all  the  re- 
sponse. "  Sure  you  don't  want  me  to  come  in 
and  back  you  up  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no !     Good-bye,  dear,  dear  Enn." 

To  this  there  was  no  reply.  Lady  Gertrude, 
watching  keenly,  saw  the  youth  climb  back  to  his 


82       DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

car,  heard  his  laconic  order  to  his  driver,  saw  the 
machine  wheel  away  through  the  open  gates. 

"  He  did  hot  take  her  hand.  He  did  not  even 
look  back,"  she  thought.  Her  heart  contracted 
with  a  new  pain  and  dread  ..."  Enn,  darling. 
Dear,  dear  Enn ! "  Why,  the  child  made  no  disguise 
of  her  feelings,  while  he — he  treated  her,  no  doubt 
thought  of  her,  but  as  a  schoolgirl. 

Lady  Gertrude's  air  was  portentous  with  a  new 
preoccupation  as  she  turned  to  meet  her  daughter, 
who  was  now  coming  up  the  stairs  towards  the 
schoolroom  with  the  light  tread  which  proclaims  the 
light  heart. 

The  girl  sprang  into  view;  and  at  sight  of  the 
figure  in  the  passage  arrested  herself  with  the  star- 
tled alertness  of  a  fawn.  A  second  she  stood,  with 
eyes,  half-roguish,  half-apprehensive,  studying  Lady 
Gertrude's  grave  countenance. 

"  Norah,  Norah !  "  said  her  mother. 

She  uttered  no  further  reproach,  but  the  young 
sinner  was  all  at  once  overcome  with  an  odd  fit  of 
repentance.  She  flung  herself  headlong  into  the 
arms  that  never  failed  to  open  for  her. 

"  Oh,  mammy,  mammy,  darling,  don't  look  like 
that !  I  know  I've  been  a  little  beast,  but  the  worst 
of  it  is  I  can't  be  sorry.  Kiss  me,  mammy  darling! 
I'd  do  it  all  over  again.  I  wish  I'd  left  a  letter  for 
you,  though!  You  weren't  anxious?  Oh,  mammy, 
it  was  glorious  !  " 

Lady  Gertrude  held  the  wild,  half-sobbing,  half- 


THE     STORY    OF    A    DAY        83 

laughing  creature  in  one  of  her  silent  embraces. 
Then  she  spoke  in  her  even,  business-like  way: 

"  The  first  thing,  the  first  thing  is  to  go  and  kiss 
your  father.  Do  you  know  that  your  father  has 
arrived?  And  he  was  so  surprised  and  so  hurt,  my 
child,  that  you  were  not  there  to  welcome  him.  I 
believe  you've  never  given  him  a  thought  all  day." 

"  No  more  I  haven't,"  cried  Norah,  with  her  ruth- 
less frankness.  She  stood  conscience-stricken. 

The  mother  appraised  her  a  moment.  With  the 
carnation  the  wind  had  whipped  into  her  cheeks,  the 
light  in  her  green  eyes,  which  not  even  a  sense  of 
guilt  could  extinguish,  the  loosened  tendrils  of  her 
hair,  Lady  Gertrude  thought  no  father  could  con- 
ceive a  fairer  image  of  youth  and  sweetness. 

"  You  must  go  to  him  now,  at  once,"  she  said 
firmly.  "  Yes,  just  as  you  are.  He  can  see  at  least 
that  you  have  lost  no  time  since  you  came  in." 

Lady  Gertrude  was  ever  an  unconscious  diploma- 
tist. Norah  stood  on  one  leg,  in  a  hesitating,  school- 
girl way: 

"  Come  with  me.     I  do  feel  so  silly,"  she  begged. 


VI 

SIR  REGINALD  looked  up  from  the  evening  paper 
which  he  was  by  way  of  reading.  He  threw  aside 
his  cigar  and  rose  to  his  feet  as  his  wife,  leading 
by  the  hand  a  tall  figure  of  sapling  slightness,  en- 
tered the  room.  For  a  moment  he  stood  staring. 
Three  years  make  so  considerable  a  difference  in  the 
rapidly  developing  stages  of  girlhood,  fourteen  to 
seventeen,  that  he  did  not  recognise  his  own  daugh- 
ter. Lady  Gertrude  had  to  say : 

"  This  is  our  Norah,  Reginald,"  before  he  under- 
stood. 

Then  he  enfolded  her,  exclaiming  genially  enough : 

"What,  Norah!     What,  my  little  girl?  " 

But  Norah,  seized  with  an  immeasurable  and  un- 
usual shyness,  could  find  nothing  to  reply,  and  very 
little  to  do.  She  kissed  her  father  gingerly ;  while, 
for  no  explained  reason,  some  voice  within  her  cried 
out :  "  Oh,  dear,  I  wish  he  hadn't  come  back !  " 

Lady  Gertrude  strove  to  cover  the  chill  pause. 

"  She's  ashamed  of  herself.  She  meant  to  be  the 
first  to  welcome  you.  And  now  she's  afraid  you  are 
displeased ! " 

"  Oh,  not  at  all  1 "  said  Sir  Reginald. 

But  the  chill  was  manifest  in  voice  and  eye. 

Another  awkward  moment  was  broken  by  the  en- 
trance of  the  footman  with  a  telegram  for  Lady 

84 


THE     STORY     OF    A     DAY        85 

Gertrude.  She  opened  and  read,  folded  and  replaced 
it  in  the  envelope  in  silence. 

"  Go  and  leave  your  hat  and  coat  in  the  hall,  and 
then  come  back,"  she  whispered  peremptorily  to  her 
daughter ;  and  in  the  girl's  absence  turned  quickly  to 
her  husband.  "  She  is  a  very  sensitive  child,  Reg- 
inald, and  I  have  upset  her  by  telling  her  how  sur- 
prised you  were  at  her  escapade." 

"  It  is  only  natural,"  he  answered,  with  that  bit- 
terness which  was  so  new  a  note  in  his  good-natured 
voice.  "  It  was  only  natural  that  she  should  not 
attach  much  importance  to  home-comings  and  wel- 
comes ...  in  this  house." 

If  Lady  Gertrude  had  a  reply  to  this,  it  was  des- 
tined to  remain  unspoken.  For  Norah  was  back 
upon  them  with  her  irrepressible  energy.  She  tossed 
her  head  a  little  defiantly  at  her  father's  inquisitorial 
glance.  But  she  was  a  gracious  creature  for  any 
man  to  own ;  and  his  face  softened  as  he  looked. 

"  Come  here,  you  madcap,"  he  said,  holding  out 
his  hand. 

She  went  but  slowly.  What  ailed  the  child, 
thought  her  mother  in  despair.  Who  would  have 
believed  that  it  had  been  part  of  her  system  to  keep 
the  father's  image  as  that  of  a  kind  of  demi-god 
constantly  before  the  daughter's  mind;  the  father's 
reward  or  blame  the  main  incentive  of  merit;  the 
father's  return  the  red-letter  day  in  their  j  oint  lives  ? 

"  He  will  think  I  have  let  her  forget  him  alto- 
gether," she  lamented  internally. 

But  if  Sir  Reginald  again  felt  his  daughter's  slow 


86        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

response,  he  was  determined  not  to  show  it.  Having 
drawn  her  to  him,  he  held  her  at  arm's  length. 

"  Well,  whoever  she  takes  after,  she's  not  like  you 
Gertrude!  I  never  saw  such  an  impudent  little  face 
in  my  life.  There's  no  Fitz-Esmond  here.  And 
carrots,  too! — Now,  how  on  earth  did  you  come  by 
carrots,  miss  ?  " 

"  I  take  after  grandpapa  Enniscorthy,"  said  the 
owner  of  the  impudent  face,  in  a  manner  to  match. 
"  Granny  says  I'm  the  image  of  him — when  he  was 
a  young  man — and,  as  for  carrots,  what  colour  was 
your  hair  before  you  got  old?  " 

The  smile  on  Sir  Reginald's  face  vanished  as  if 
wiped  away.  He  was,  like  most  men  of  his  kidney, 
rather  susceptible  on  the  subject  of  advancing  years ; 
besides  which,  surrounded  by  the  utmost  deference, 
wielding  almost  autocratic  power  over  the  little  world 
under  his  command,  he  was  not  accustomed  to  be 
addressed  with  such  flippancy.  From  feminine  lips, 
above  all,  he  had  not  been  wont  to  receive  anything 
but  dulcet  homage.  He  dropped  his  caressing  hold 
of  the  girl,  and  turned  abruptly  to  his  wife. 

"  I  hope  that  governess  of  yours  is  not  in  for 
something  serious,  and  that  she  will  soon  be  able  to 
go  about  her  duty  again.  It  strikes  me  this  young 
lady  wants  all  the  superintendence  she  can  get." 

To  his  surprise  and  Lady  Gertrude's  distress, 
Norah  broke  into  wild  laughter: 

"  Trottsky !  Oh,  has  she  taken  in  the  doctor, 
after  all?  And  how  happy  she  must  be!  " 

"  Taken  in  the  doctor ! "  echoed  her  mother,  be- 
wildered. 


87 

And,  "  Happy !  "  ejaculated  her  father,  frowning. 

"  Oh,  dear,  oh,  dear !  "  said  Norah.  It  had  been 
an  exciting  day  for  her,  and  perhaps  there  was  some- 
thing a  little  hysterical  in  her  mirth.  "  She's  shown 
him  the  thermometer  and  it's  one  hundred  and  three. 
Don't  tell  me  he's  afraid  of  collapse.  .  .  .  Oh, 
how  I  shall  laugh  at  old  Somers  next  time  he  comes 
and  orders  me  ferocal!  It's  always  such  a  relief  to 
put  out  my  tongue  at  him  as  it  is !  " 

"  Norah ! "  said  her  mother.  When  Lady  Ger- 
trude was  really  suffering  her  voice  was  at  its  gen- 
tlest. "  I  see  you  don't  understand. — Her  excellent 
little  German  governess,"  she  went  on  parenthetically 
to  Sir  Reginald,  who,  having  taken  up  his  cigar 
again,  was  mechanically  rolling  it  between  his  fingers, 
while  he  watched  his  daughter  intently,  "  is  some- 
thing of  a  hypochondriac.  We've  all  been  accus- 
tomed to  her  crying  wolf  about  her  health.  But 
this  time  it  is  serious,  dear  child."  (Oh,  how  she 
wished  Norah  would  not  laugh  like  that !)  "It 
was  not  Doctor  Somers  who  came,  but  his  assistant, 
and  he  is  quite  uneasy  about  her.  He  certainly  is 
afraid  of  collapse,  Norah,  and  she  is  having  brandy 
and  Brand's  essence  every  half-hour." 

"  Oh — oh — oh !  "  gasped  Norah,  falling  helplessly 
into  a  chair. 

"  The  thermometer  undoubtedly  went  up  to  a  hun- 
dred and  three,"  cried  Lady  Gertrude  sharply. 

Then  Norah  spluttered  between  sobs  of  laughter: 

"  Of  course  it  did !  Didn't  I  dip  it  into  her  hot- 
water  jug?  " 

*'  What?  "     Lady  Gertrude  saw  her  husband  smile. 


88        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

The  room  seemed  to  go  round  with  her.  "  Norah, 
you  must  explain !  " 

Norah  sat  up  very  straight,  a  sudden  gravity  upon 
her.  Her  green  eyes  flung  a  challenging  glance  from 
her  mother's  serious  countenance  to  her  father's 
smile.  There  seemed  to  be  something  about  that 
smile  displeasing  to  the  daughter,  for  her  defiance 
increased,  and  she  aimed  her  confession  at  him. 

"  Fraulein  was  as  right  as  a  trivet.  She'd  had 
all  her  minced  beef — platesful  of  it,  just  as  usual." 

"Minced  beef?"  enquired  her  father  politely,  ac- 
cepting the  challenge  of  her  address. 

"  Yes,  that's  called  the  Salisbury  treatment.  You 
eat  minced  beef  till  you  are  stodged,  and  then  you 
drink  hot  water  " 

Lady  Gertrude  could  have  wept,  but  she  gave  a 
little  laugh  instead,  and  sat  down  in  her  turn,  feel- 
ing for  once  quite  unable  to  direct  the  current  of 
events.  They  proceeded  briskly  without  her  aid. 

"  Indeed,"  said  Sir  Reginald  gravely,  "  that  is  a 
very  graphic  description.  Go  on,  if  you  please." 

"  Well,  she'd  had  her  mince,  but  she  hadn't  had 
her  hot  water."  The  girl  paused,  then  the  words 
followed  each  other  with  a  rush.  "  Enn  had  asked 
me  to  go  with  him  motoring." 

"Enn?" 

"  Oh,  that's  my  cousin  Enniscorthy !  "  said  Norah, 
and  gave  her  head  its  naughty  toss ;  which  move- 
ment, as  well  as  the  possessive  pronoun,  her  mother 
noted  silently.  "  And  mamma  wouldn't  let  me  go ; 
and  I  thought  it  horribly  hard  of  her — yes,  I  did, 


THE     STORY     OF     A     DAY        89 

mammy,  and  I  do  still — so  I  just  thought  I  would 
go,  since  you  weren't  coming  back  after  all.  Arid  I 
pretended  Fraulein  was  ill " 

"You  pretended  Fraulein  was  ill?" 

"  Oh,  well,"  said  the  culprit  with  an  impatient 
wriggle,  "  it  was  quite  easy !  I  told  her  she  looked 
bad  and  ought  to  go  to  bed,  and  I  dipped  the  ther- 
mometer into  her  hot  water  without  her  seeing. 
Then  I  took  her  temperature,  and  it  was  a  hundred 
and  three." 

"  It  is  indeed  a  simple  tale,"  said  the  General, 
turning  ironically  to  his  wife.  "  You  had  better  go 
and  allay  the  poor  lady's  fears.  And,  if  I  might 
venture  to  suggest,  you  might  provide  yourself  with 
a  governess  who  is  not  a  hypochondriac,  and  a  doc- 
tor that  is  not  taken  in  by  practical  jokes." 

"  But,  but "  cried  Lady  Gertrude,  feeling  that 

her  daughter's  narration  had  established  her  in  a 
scarcely  more  kindly  light  than  her  apparently  heart- 
less laughter.  "  Fraulein  is  ill.  Her  pulse  was 
quite  fluttering  when  I  felt  it  a  little  while  ago,  and 
she  seemed  dazed." 

"  You  may  bet  your  boots "  began  the  irre- 
pressible child,  springing  up. 

"  You  may  what  ?  "  asked  her  father,  who  was 
fastidious  in  matters  of  speech,  as  in  many  other 
things. 

"  You  may  be  jolly  well  sure,  father,"  renewed 
Norah,  turning  on  him,  "  she's  been  stowing  away 
phenacetin  as  fast  as  she  can,  all  on  the  top  of  the 
minced  beef !  Oh,  I  say,  mamma !  " 


90        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

"  Come,"  said  her  mother,  seeing  that  every  mo- 
ment but  gave  the  girl  fresh  and  dangerous  oppor- 
tunity for  damaging  self-revelation,  "  we  must  go 
up,  then,  at  once  and  put  a  stop  to  such  dangerous 
remedies,  and  do  what  we  can  to  repair.  Certainly, 
as  father  says,  poor  Fraulein's  mind  must  be  set  at 
rest." 

"  Gracious,  mamma ! "  cried  Norah,  making  one 
of  her  impetuous  plunges  towards  her  parent,  "  what- 
ever you  do,  you  mustn't  tell  Trottsky  she  isn't  really 
bad,  for  that  would  just  finish  her. — No,"  went  on 
the  young  lady,  who  had  a  good  deal  of  astuteness 
and  practicality  at  the  back  of  her  wildness,  "  we 
had  better  find  out  how  many  phens  she's  had,  and 
take  the  box  away  from  her.  Of  course  we'll  tell 
the  doctor.  Oh,  do  let  me  be  there  " — her  laughter 
broke  out  afresh — "what  fun  it  will  be  to  see  his 
face!" 

Lady  Gertrude  paused  on  the  threshold  and  looked 
back  at  her  husband.  She,  too,  did  not  like  the  smile 
with  which  he  gazed  back  at  them.  She  lifted  her 
soft  voice: 

"  You'll  be  glad  to  hear,  dear,  that  your  friend, 
Mrs.  Lancelot,  is  delighted  to  accept  our  invitation, 
and  will  be  with  us  to-morrow.  I've  just  received 
her  telegram." 


Sir  Reginald  stood  digesting  this  remark  some 
time  after  the  door  had  closed  upon  his  wife  and 
child.  Then  he  broke  into  laughter  that  was  per- 


THE     STORY    OF    A    DAY        91 

haps  not  so  genuine  as  he  would  have  had  it  to 
himself. 

"  Upon  my  word,"  he  said,  "  I  seem  to  have  come 
back  into  a  peculiar  household." 

He  would  be  the  first  man  to  condone  the  follies 
of  youth  and  high  spirits,  but  this  trick  of  Norah's 
would  have  been  unpardonable  in  a  schoolboy.  It 
was  unladylike;  it  showed  a  positive  want  of  feel- 
ing. And  Gertrude  had  looked  on  with  perfect 
placidity,  scarcely  even  hinting  rebuke. 
And  it  was  for  the  sake  of  her  personal  influence 
over  her  daughter  that  she  had  left  him  alone  in 
India. 

The  grievance  Sir  Reginald  had  been  so  glad  to 
remember  and  to  nurse  was  growing  into  an  unex- 
pectedly fine  infant. 

He  lit  a  fresh  cigar  and  began  slowly  to  pace  the 
length  of  the  room,  now  pleasantly  flooded  with  the 
first  amber  rays  of  sunset. 

A  library,  if  worthy  of  the  name  at  all,  is  the  pleas- 
antest  place  of  the  house.  Lady  Gertrude  had 
unerring  taste,  and  she  had  respected,  and  cunningly 
made  use  of,  every  old-world  fixture  that  she  had 
purchased  with  Orange  Court.  Many  of  Sir  Reg- 
inald's own  books  looked  out  at  him  now  from  the 
shelves  around  with  genial,  familiar  faces.  The  walls 
were  panelled,  and  his  own  family  portraits — noth- 
ing of  remarkable  value  or  antiquity,  but  paintings 
quite  good  to  view,  nevertheless — hung  above  the 
low  bookcases.  There  was  the  head  of  his  grand- 


92        DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

mother,  by  Opie — a  charming,  girlish  countenance 
against  a  curious  golden  background,  with  a  rich- 
ness of  brown  in  the  hair  and  red  in  the  lip  that 
arrested  the  eye.  He  had  never  seen  it  look  so  well. 
It  hung  in  just  the  right  light  over  the  chimney- 
piece,  and,  in  the  evening  radiance,  it  seemed  almost 
alive.  As  he  glanced  at  it  admiringly,  he  thought 
there  was  a  likeness  to  Norah  in  the  mutinous  mouth 
and  the  innocent  roguery  of  the  eye  and  his  heart 
was  stirred  with  its  first  real  movement  of  paternal 
tenderness  that  day. 

Grandpapa  Enniscorthy,  indeed!  Why,  she  was 
her  father's  own. 

That  grandmother  of  his  had  been  a  Charteris 
of  Senhouse,  and  the  Esdale  family  had  been  proud 
of  the  alliance.  Her  vivid  charm,  her  colouring, 
had  become  Esdale,  for  him,  Sir  Reginald,  to  trans- 
mit. He  felt  in  this  tightening  of  the  link  with  the 
past  a  corresponding  closeness  with  the  living  link 
that  was  to  carry  the  chain  on  in  the  future.  The 
pride  of  creation  which  it  is  humanity's  prerogative 
to  lift  above  mere  instinct,  mingled  here  with  pride 
of  race  in  a  nature  essentially  personal  in  all  its 
demands  on  life. 

After  a  pensive  pause  he  resumed  his  walk  to  and 
fro,  and  a  sense  of  repose  struggled  curiously  with 
an  unwonted  melancholy.  Upon  his  last  visit  to 
England  they  had  but  just  obtained  possession  of 
Orange  Court,  and  it  had  been  in  that  chaotic  condi- 
tion which  follows  the  first  installation.  Now  it  had 
become  a  home.  He  was  critical;  and  the  circum- 


THE     STORY    OF    A    DAY        93 

stances  of  his  return  tended  to  make  him  unsparingly 
so  to  all  arrangements  concluded  without  his  advice: 
but  he  could  find  no  fault  with  his  surroundings. 
The  most  delicate  thoughtfulness  had  presided  over 
the  room  that  was  destined  to  be  his.  The  tint  of 
curtain  and  carpet,  the  shape  of  the  armchairs,  were 
such  as  he  had  always  approved  of.  He  liked  brown 
and  dim  gold,  and  he  had  a  fancy  for  old  Spanish 
leather.  There  was  a  Cordova  hanging  over  the 
door,  as  fine  as  he  had  ever  seen.  Now,  where  had 
Gertrude  picked  that  up?  And  above  the  fumes  left 
by  his  own  cigar  (he  had  let  the  second  one  die  half- 
smoked  also)  there  was  a  subtle  fragrance  of  his 
favourite  heliotrope.  Ay,  truly  enough,  in  the  window 
recess  behind  the  great  writing-table — he  demanded 
plenty  of  room  to  spread  his  papers  when  he  worked 
— stood  an  old  copper  brazier  filled  with  heliotrope ; 
the  discreet  purple  of  the  flower  and  the  dark  green 
of  the  leaves  robbing  the  decoration  of  the  ultra- 
feminine  note  which  flowering  plants  seem  usually  to 
lend  to  an  apartment. 

Even  in  the  rush  of  touched  feeling  which  this  dis- 
covery produced,  Sir  Reginald  was  seized  with  a 
qualm  of  peculiar  discomfiture.  He  remembered  how 
Gertrude  had  sniffed  as  she  stood  behind  him ;  remem- 
bered the  malicious  twinkle  in  Coralie's  eyes ;  the  allu- 
sion to  strange  perfumes  and  aromas  of  the  East. 
He  had  often  wished,  in  the  days  of  their  first  ac- 
quaintance, that  Mrs.  Lancelot  had  been  more  dis- 
creet in  her  choice  of  scent.  He  had  felt  the  atmos- 
phere she  affected  cling  to  him — that  was  the  word 


94        DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

his  wife  had  used — cling — for  hours  after  he  had 
parted  from  her.  Later  he  had  grown  accustomed 
to  the  pungency,  after  the  strange  fashion  in  which 
a  man  does  grow  accustomed  to  the  scent  on  a 
woman's  garments  and  the  paint  on  a  woman's  face. 
And  there  were  times,  indeed,  when  what  his  fastidi- 
ousness at  first  had  rebelled  against,  had  been  en- 
joyed with  sentimental  pleasure.  But  that  had  been 
in  India.  Even  on  the  voyage  home  he  had  had  an 
uneasy  feeling  that  these  primrose  days  of  dalliance 
could  not  continue  with  the  same  pleasant  irresponsi- 
bility ;  that  the  hour  was  approaching  when  "  little 
Madame  "  and  he  must  become  nothing  at  all  to  each 
other,  or  ...  a  great  deal  too  much. 

To  do  him  justice,  however  the  evil  thought  may 
have  flittered,  batlike,  through  his  mind  in  the  twi- 
light of  a  relaxed  mood,  Sir  Reginald  had  never 
deliberately  contemplated  the  latter  contingency. 
Yet  already  Mrs.  Lancelot's  company  was  almost  a 
necessity  to  him:  her  sympathy,  her  flattering  ways, 
the  perpetual  excitement  of  a  flirtation  which  only 
the  most  skilful  manipulation,  on  either  side,  kept 
from  very  perilous  moments,  all  added  a  spice  to  his 
existence  without  which  he  could  scarcely  imagine 
its  flatness. 

She  had  the  talent  of  making  perpetual  demand 
upon  his  chivalry,  his  sense  of  virile  protectiveness, 
a  talent  dangerously  attractive  to  a  man  of  his  dis- 
position. (Gertrude  had  never  let  him  feel  that  she 
needed  protection ;  on  the  contrary,  it  was  her  quality 
to  give  strength  rather  than  receive  it.)  Moreover, 


THE     STORY    OF    A    DAY        95 

on  one  or  two  specially  intimate  occasions,  Mrs. 
Lancelot  had  allowed  him,  as  she  herself  phrased  it, 
"  glimpses  of  her  heart."  In  that  heart  he  had  read 
deep  love  for  himself,  and  there  is  no  man  on  earth 
who,  believing  so  much  of  a  pretty  woman,  does  not 
feel  called  upon  to  make  some  response. 

However  Sir  Reginald  might  endeavour  to  repre- 
sent to  himself  that  in  establishing  "  poor  Lancelot's 
widow  "  in  ease  and  comfort,  he  was  but  fulfilling  a 
positive  obligation  to  the  memory  of  her  husband, 
acting,  in  fact,  with  common  humanity,  there  was 
already — as  Coralie's  quick  wits  had  surmised — a 
programme  between  them  for  frequent  meetings  in 
the  future;  meetings  which  must  of  their  essence  be 
stolen  and  were  likely  to  end  but  in  one  way. 

Fate,  in  the  shape  of  Lady  Gertrude,  had  made 
a  complete  upheaval  of  this  gentle  policy  of  drifting. 
Never  in  his  wildest  moments  had  he  contemplated 
such  a  contingency  as  that  which  now  seemed  in- 
evitable. 

What  did  that  invitation  to  Mrs.  Lancelot  por- 
tend? How  much  did  Gertrude  know?  How  much 
had  the  mischievous  little  American  tattled?  How 
much  more  or  how  much  less  than  the  truth?  Yet, 
surely,  had  Gertrude  entertained  any  real  suspicions 
she,  dignity  incarnate,  would  never  have  dreamed  of 
inviting  her  rival  under  her  own  roof  with  himself; 
never  would  have  invited  her  with  the  intention  of  pry- 
ing on  their  mutual  intimacy !  The  mere  thought  was 
untenable.  On  the  other  hand,  it  was  unlike  Gertrude 
to  rush  at  strangers ;  and  he  was  painfully  aware 


96        DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

that  he  had  been  remarkably  silent  about  Mrs.  Lance- 
lot in  his  letters  home.  The  more  Sir  Reginald  pon- 
dered, the  more  cryptic  the  problem  became.  He  was 
fain  at  length  to  accept  the  theory,  though  without 
any  complete  conviction,  that  it  was  from  genuine 
compassion  for  the  desolate  widow,  and  out  of  grati- 
tude to  his  kind  nurse,  that  the  invitation  had  been 
issued.  It  was  Gertrude's  own  explanation,  and  he 
could  find  no  better  one. 

Melancholy  grew  ever  more  upon  him.  Instead  of 
looking  forward  to  happy,  placid  days  between  wife 
and  child  and  friends,  with* here  and  there  a  pleasant 
and  harmless  little  interlude  of  relaxation  with  the 
fascinating  Emerald,  he  was  positively  dreading  what 
the  morrow  would  bring. 

He  could  not  hold  himself  to  blame  for  the  dilemma, 
and  its  future  consequences.  No,  if  ever  there  had 
been  an  affectionate,  domestic  being,  it  was  himself. 
It  was  his  very  dependence  upon  feminine  compan- 
ionship that  had  led  him,  after  his  wife's  abandon- 
ment, to  turn  to  another.  He  began  to  contrast, 
with  an  ever-growing  sense  of  injury,  the  warmth  of 
Mrs.  Lancelot's  feelings  towards  him,  with  the  pla- 
cidity, amounting  to  coldness,  of  his  wife's  reception. 
Emerald  had  been  unable  to  control  her  grief  at  their 
parting — this  first  break  in  their  long  intimacy — 
though  she  had  known  they  would  meet  again  in  a 
very  few  days.  His  own  wife  had  not  even  come  out 
to  the  hall  to  meet  him!  He  remembered  how  she 
had  drawn  herself  from  his  arms  ;  how  Emerald  Fanny 
had  abandoned  herself  into  them,  like  a  child.  Poor 


THE     STORY    OF    A    DAY        97 

little  soul!  It  was  lie  who  had  had  to  lift  up  that 
fair  head  that  rested  so  confidingly  against  his 
breast. 

Hum !  It  was  a  pity  he  had  not  noticed  that  hair 
— to  remove  it,  likewise  tenderly — before  it  fell  to 
Gertrude's  eyes  and  Gertrude's  fingers.  He  would 
have  given  a  great  deal  to  know  what  had  been  pass- 
ing in  Gertrude's  mind  as  she  rolled  up  the  golden 
token  and  flicked  it  from  her. 

Here  his  thoughts  became  so  uncomfortable  that 
he  was  fain  to  distract  himself  by  action.  He  de- 
termined to  go  and  dress  for  dinner. 

Sir  Reginald  was  a  handsome,  imposing  man ;  and, 
in  spite  of  Norah's  ill-timed  remark  and  the  silver- 
grey  of  his  very  luxuriant  hair — which,  though  close- 
cropped  in  soldier  fashion,  still  betrayed  an  irresist- 
ible tendency  to  curl — was  youthful  looking  for  his 
years.  It  was  perhaps  this  unconquerable  youthful- 
ness,  betrajdng  itself  in  his  smile,  the  glance  of  his 
eyes,  the  alertness  of  his  step,  that  formed  the  chief 
part  of  his  fascination.  For  fascinating  he  un- 
doubtedly was  to  men  as  well  as  to  women.  He  had 
kept  in  heart  and  mind  a  freshness  that  was  almost 
boyish ;  things  interested  him,  people  interested  him ; 
he  was  as  full  of  impulse,  as  ready  to  take  up  a  plan, 
to  fling  himself  whole-souled  into  whatever  the  work 
of  the  moment  might  be,  as  the  most  enthusiastic 
subaltern:  a  characteristic  that  perhaps  accounted 
for  the  abnormal  success  of  his  career.  There  was 
but  one  word  to  describe  what  that  had  been — bril- 


98        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

liant.  He  had  a  brilliant  fighting  record  behind 
him,  had  shown  brilliant  administrative  qualities,  had 
been  moved  with  unwonted  rapidity  from  grade  to 
grade;  and  now  counting  fewer  years  than  almost 
any  General  in  the  service,  he  had  just  completed 
the  term  of  an  important  command  with  the  certitude 
of  soon  obtaining  some  high  War  Office  post.  His 
marriage  to  the  handsomest  of  the  rich  Fitz-Esmond 
sisters  had  been  part  of  the  general  fitness  of  things 
in  his  existence.  Up  to  this  moment,  indeed,  he  had 
never,  and  with  reason,  doubted  of  himself. 

But,  as  he  stood,  gazing  into  the  mirror  after  a 
careful  toilet,  he  was  conscious  that  for  once  in  his 
life  his  own  face  looked  back  at  him  as  that  of  a 
discontented  man. 

Under  the  small,  upturned  moustache,  his  hand- 
some mouth  had  a  troubled  compression.  Like  his 
wife  a  few  hours  before,  it  seemed  to  him  that  his 
world  had  gone  out  of  joint — worse,  he  had  an  un- 
easy consciousness  of  being  himself  flung  out  of  his 
equilibrium.  In  this  irritable,  uneasy,  unwonted  per- 
sonality he  could  not  discover  what  had  become  of 
the  normal,  urbane,  charming  Reginald  he  had  al- 
ways approved  of.  There  was  a  horrid,  j  arring  feel- 
ing, as  of  a  grain  of  sand  in  his  mental  eye,  that  de- 
prived him  completely  of  his  complacency.  He  had 
been  dreading  the  morrow;  he  now  found  himself 
dreading  the  evening. 

Yet  it  was  made  unexpectedly  easy  to  him.  When 
he  reappeared  in  the  drawing-room,  it  was  to  find 


THE     STORY     OF     A     DAY        99 

his  wife,  and  Norah  (smooth-haired,  in  a  modest 
jeune-fille  garment)  waiting  for  him. 

To  his  surprise,  the  latter  immediately  came  for- 
ward, and  offering  him  her  brow,  said : 

"  Good-night,  papa !  " 

She  was  subdued  out  of  recognition.  And  there 
were  shadows  under  her  eyes,  which  might  have  been 
due  to  recent  tears. 

His  heart  contracted  for  a  moment  with  a  spasm 
of  double  jealousy,  when  he  saw  the  warmth  of  the 
good-nights  exchanged  between  mother  and  daugh- 
ter. Lady  Gertrude  never  spoke  when  she  embraced 
those  she  loved.  It  seemed  as  if  every  energy  of  her 
being  passed  into  her  silent  and  tender  kiss.  But 
then,  she  kissed  very  few  people.  Sir  Reginald  re- 
membered she  had  not  yet  kissed  him;  not  even  in 
that  first  moment  of  greeting,  when  he  himself — with 
a  glow  of  self-righteousness  he  now  recalled  it — had 
been  almost  overcome.  She  had  submitted  to  his  ten- 
derness, that  was  all. 

Norah  had  taken  an  unwontedly  demure  departure 
when  Lady  Gertrude  broke  in  upon  the  injured  hus- 
band's reflections : 

"  I  have  sent  her  to  bed,  you  see.  She  does  usually 
dine  downstairs,  but,  to-night  ..."  here  she 
smiled  rather  wistfully.  "  Well,  there  were  three 
reasons.  I  wanted  this  one  night  alone  with  you, 
Reginald,  since  we  are  to  have  a  guest  to-morrow. 
And  I  thought  Norah  deserved  some  punishment. 
And  besides,"  now  she  laughed,  "  the  child  can  hardly 
hold  up  her  head  for  sleep,  after  her  long  drive." 


100        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

Before  the  tete-a-tete  dinner  was  over,  a  strange 
sensation  had  come  upon  Sir  Reginald.  He  felt  as 
if  these  long  years  of  separation  had  never  taken 
place ;  as  if  there  had  been  no  long  months  of  domes- 
tic loneliness,  no  secret  heartburning — no  Emerald! 
The  gracious  presence  opposite  to  him  at  the  small 
round  table  began  to  exert  a  familiar  and  subtle  spell. 
He  looked  at  his  wife  across  the  roses  with  a  stirring 
of  old  ardours. 

She  was,  first  of  all,  pre-eminently  aristocratic- 
looking,  and  that  was  an  appeal  to  a  certain  side 
of  him  that  could  not  fail.  And  then  her  good  looks 
were  undeniable.  His  eyes  rested  gratefully  on  the 
clear-cut  features,  with  their  smooth  pallor  against 
the  waves  of  black  hair.  He  counted  the  silver 
threads  in  those  waves  without  a  shock ;  nay,  he  dis- 
tinctly thought  they  became  her.  He  was  not  sure 
they  did  not  actually  make  her  look  younger,  soften- 
ing the  somewhat  severe  outline  of  her  face. 

She  was  of  those  rare  beings  that  seem  to  give  out 
serenity.  There  was  a  large  and  brooding  peace 
about  her  that  began  to  steal  upon  him,  soothing  the 
trouble  of  his  soul  almost  imperceptibly,  yet  irre- 
sistibly. Now  and  again  he  found  his  eye  rest  with 
a  kind  of  wonder  upon  her.  Could  any  woman,  who 
entertained  the  smallest  suspicion  of  her  husband, 
look  with  such  clear,  calm  gaze,  smile  with  such 
sweetness,  speak  in  so  lovely  a  voice  of  gentleness? 

The  thought  suddenly  struck  him  that,  search  as 
he  might  through  all  the  memories  of  their  long 
years  together,  he  had  never  known  Gertrude  make 


THE     STORY     OF     A     DAY        101 

a  scene,  never  even  heard  from  her  lips  one  acrid 
word.  She  had  never  shown  herself  a  jealous  woman, 
or  a  suspicious ;  and  the  very  fact  that  she  consist- 
ently refused  to  attribute  importance  to  his  many 
flirtations  had  actually  robbed  them  of  it.  No  man, 
no  gentleman — and  Sir  Reginald  knew  himself  to  be 
both — would  have  betrayed  such  confidence  and  such 
sweetness. 

To-night,  for  the  first  time  in  their  joint  lives,  he 
sat  opposite  to  her  and  knew  that  there  was  some- 
thing between  them.  If  he  had  kept  his  marriage 
vow  intrinsically  intact,  yet  were  there  not  episodes 
which  he  would  like  her  to  ignore?  That  embrace 
which  had  left  its  golden  memorial  upon  his  heart — 
well,  it  had  not  been  the  first. 

Yet,  as  the  minutes  went  by,  even  these  pricks  of 
self-reproach  became  allayed.  Gertrude  seemed  to 
hypnotise  him  into  comfort  and  ease.  It  was  almost 
as  if  her  fair  hand  had  made  passes  over  his  soul,  and 
the  soreness,  the  trouble,  the  worry  slept. 

And  what  a  dinner  she  gave  him!  Just  the  right 
length;  his  favourite  dishes  cooked  and  served  to 
perfection.  The  cellar  was  of  his  own  choosing,  of 
course,  but  she  had  ordered  up  for  him  a  bottle  of 
his  special  Burgundy,  warmed  to  an  exquisite  shade 
of  ripeness,  duly  cradled ;  and  Barker  had  poured  it 
forth  with  proper  compunction.  After  the  straw- 
berries she  sat  and  made  the  Turkish  coffee  while  he 
smoked. 

That  completed  one  of  the  most  admirable  repasts 
he  ever  remembered. 


102        DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

It  was  not  till  she  finally  left  him  to  have  a  look 
at  Fraulein  before  joining  him  in  the  library,  that 
he  thought  of  his  complications  again.  And,  to  his 
surprise,  he  found  himself  saying  in  so  many  words : 

"  Confound  Emerald !  '•' 


VII 

THE  little  widow,  whose  unprotected  and  homeless 
condition  so  moved  Sir  Reginald  that  he  had  put 
aside  the  claims  of  wife  and  child  to  conduct  her  to 
safe  harbour,  now  found  herself  alone  in  her  new 
quarters  at  the  Hyde  Park  Hotel. 

No  sooner  had  the  door  closed  upon  the  soft- 
hearted gentleman  than  the  pathetic  expression  of 
her  countenance  gave  place  to  an  air  of  alert  interest 
and  satisfaction.  She  sprang  to  her  feet  and  began 
a  close  inspection  of  her  surroundings.  It  was  a 
small,  irregular  room,  overlooking  the  park,  and  the 
sight  of  the  swaying  tree-tops  between  the  pink  bro- 
cade curtains  appealed  to  her  artistic  sense. 

*'  What  a  sweet  contrast ! "  she  murmured,  and 
thought  hopefully  of  the  day  when  she  could  again 
combine  such  colour  schemes  in  her  attractive  per- 
son. She  loved  pink. 

Then  she  examined  the  furniture,  upholstered  in 
the  same  brocade,  rubbed  her  little  shoe  luxuriously 
over  the  thick  pile  of  the  rosy  carpet  and  surveyed 
one  after  the  other  the  two  pictures  on  the  walls, 
photogravures  of  those  deservedly  popular  works  of 
art:  "  Wash  Day,"  and  "  In  Disgrace." 

Mrs.  Lancelot  had  neither  child  nor  dog,  but  she 
was  devoted  to  both,  in  theory.  She  stood  gazing 
at  the  chubby  little  girl  and  her  pet  with  a  misty 

103 


104        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

eye,  rehearsing  the  moment  when  she  should  draw  the 
attention  of  some  visitor  of  hers,  preferably  male, 
to  them,  with  words  which  should  betray  her  tender 
heart : 

"  Aren't  they  too,  too  sweet  ?  It  quite  cheers  me 
up  in  my  loneliness  to  look  at  the  dear  baby  face. 
."  Or,  if  the  caller  should  be  a  pronounced 
dog  lover,  the  phrase  could  be  varied : 

"  Isn't  it  dear,  with  its  stump  of  a  tail — sometimes 
I  feel  as  if  it  almost  wagged  at  me.  Me !  I  haven't 
even  a  dog  to  love  me !  You  see,  in  my  homeless  ex- 
istence— in  an  hotel " 

Mrs.  Lancelot — she  liked  her  friends  to  call  her 
Emerald — was  fond  of  mental  pictures  in  which  she 
was  herself  the  central  figure.  She  had  a  manner  of 
seeing  her  personality  as  it  were  dissociated  from 
herself,  and  could  become  pathetic  over  her  own  pa- 
thos, or  subjugated  by  her  own  charms,  without  any 
awkward  sensation  of  egotism. 

From  the  emotional  moments  over  the  photograv- 
ures she  passed  to  visions  of  intimate  little  parties 
of  two,  or  at  the  most  four,  within  these  pleasant 
walls.  Sir  Reginald  would,  of  course,  often  be  with 
her,  but  she  would  have  other  guests  at  times ;  she 
could  receive  anyone  here ;  it  was  such  a  comfort  to 
be  in  a  good  hotel!  And  with  some  plants  and 
flowers — that  was  another  delicate  feminine  trait 
about  herself  that  she  liked  to  contemplate ;  she  could 
not  live  without  flowers — she  thought  her  little  sit- 
ting-room would  look  quite  homelike.  "  Quite  like 
me!" 


THE     STORY    OF    A    DAY        105 

Upon  this  agreeable  thought  she  rang  her  bell; 
and  in  silvery  tones  gave  orders  that  a  couple  of 
lilies  in  pots,  and  a  large  bunch  of  roses  should  im- 
mediately be  ordered  for  her  from  the  nearest  florist. 

"  And  you  can  tell  the  porter  to  pay  the  bill  and 
have  it  entered,  please,"  she  added  airily.  Sir  Regi- 
nald had  insisted  that  she  was  to  be  his  guest  in  the 
hotel  for  the  present.  He  would  be  the  first  to  wish 
her  to  gratify  so  simple  a  wish  as  that  for  a  few 
flowers. 

Humming  a  little  tune,  she  next  proceeded  into 
the  adjoining  bedroom,  where  she  summoned  the 
housemaid,  whom  she  forthwith  interviewed  on  the 
subject  of  personal  attendance  with  a  smile  which 
she  felt  must  incline  that  person  towards  her  even 
more  than  the  promise  of  a  good  tip. 

"  I'll  make  it  worth  your  while,"  said  the  widow, 
with  the  most  ingratiating  familiarity.  "  You  look 
so  kind  and  clever,  I'm  sure  you  would  be  better  than 
any  lady's-maid  I  could  get.  And  I'm  rather  lonely. 
You  see  I'm  in  mourning  still.  It  would  be  such  a 
comfort  to  me  if  you  would  look  after  me  a  little. 
Oh,  you  don't  mind,  do  you?  " 

Of  course  the  housemaid  didn't  mind.  She  would 
be  only  too  pleased,  she  was  sure,  to  do  what  she 
could.  She  would  do  her  best,  she  was  sure. 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  thank  you !  "  Emerald  responded 
in  a  dulcet  recitative.  "  That  is  delightful  of  you. 
What  is  your  name?  Muriel — what  a  pretty  name! 
Muriel — yes — you  look  like  a  Muriel  somehow.  There 
are  my  things,  would  you  mind?  Yes,  I  think  they 


106       DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

had  better  be  all  unpacked.  There  are  some  hanging 
places  here,  aren't  there  ?  " 

She  returned  to  her  sitting-room.  It  was  nearly 
five  o'clock,  and  she  thought  agreeably  of  tea  on  the 
terrace.  She  might  meet  an  acquaintance:  London 
was  a  wonderful  place  for  that.  Or  she  might  remain 
quite  alone,  a  solitary  figure  at  her  little  table,  gazing 
out  across  the  park  with  far-away  eyes.  In  her 
mourning  garb  the  fair  young  widow  could  scarcely 
fail  to  attract  attention. 

For  this  role  a  little  pallor  would  not  be  unbecom- 
ing. Her  handbag  was  on  the  dressing-room  table, 
and  the  wherewithal  inside.  There  was  a  convenient 
mirror  over  the  chimney-piece,  and  Emerald  had  as 
practised  a  taste  in  subtle  shades  of  complexion  as  she 
had  in  shades  of  feeling. 

It  was,  therefore,  an  ivory-cheeked,  appealing  ap- 
parition that  glided,  all  in  her  floating  trappings  of 
woe,  through  the  crowded  groups  of  tea-goers  on  the 
terrace  overlooking  the  park  and  settled,  with  a  flut- 
ter like  some  alighting  bird,  at  the  solitary  table 
indicated  by  a  subservient  waiter. 

She  flung  a  long,  sad  look  about  her,  and  then  was 
about  to  allow  the  yearning  eyes  to  wander  to  un- 
seen horizons  when  she  heard  her  name  pronounced 
in  a  masculine  voice: 

"  Hulloa,  Mrs.  Lancelot !  Oh,  I  say,  it  is  Mrs. 
Lancelot,  isn't  it?  I  wonder  if  you  remember 
me?  " 

A  tall,  blond  youth  stood  before  her.  He  had  de- 
tached himself  from  a  tea-party  in  her  rear;  and, 


THE     STORY     OF    A     DAY        107 

blushing  at  his  own  temerity,  had  brought  himself 
awkwardly  up  to  her  chair. 

She  recognised  him  hardly  with  elation ;  a  subal- 
tern in  a  marching  regiment  whom  she  had  met  two 
or  three  times  in  India.  Nevertheless,  he  was  of  the 
right  sex,  and  it  was  part  of  Emerald's  code  to  be 
sweet  to  all  that  came  her  way.  Moreover,  there  are 
times  when  the  aptitude  of  the  proverb,  "  Half  a  loaf 
is  better  than  no  bread,"  is  peculiarly  brought  home 
to  one. 

Mr.  Brodrick-Smith  was  scarcely  even  half  a  loaf, 
but  he  was  a  crumb  of  comfort  in  an  empty  hand.  So 
the  pathetic  widow  who  had  created  quite  a  stir  of 
excitement  among  the  idle  tea-drinkers,  smiled  on  the 
enthralled  young  man  with  more  than  her  usual 
grace. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Brodrick-Smith,  is  it  possible?  How, 
too,  too  singular  that  we  should  come  across  each 
other  like  this !  Remember  you — but,  of  course,  I 
remember  you!  Oh,  do  sit  down  and  have  a  cup  of 
tea  with  me !  Do  you  know,  I  was  feeling  so  lonely, 
so  abandoned — I  came  to  have  a  breath  of  air  here  on 
the  terrace,  and  I  was  just  thinking  I  could  not  stand 
it  all  by  myself.  But  if  you  will  sit  here  it  will  make 
all  the  difference.  Will  you?  " 

Would  he?  He  belonged  to  a  party  of  aunts  and 
cousins,  but  their  multiplied  attractions  could  not 
compete  against  such  a  being  as  Mrs.  Lancelot.  He 
swelled  with  pride  at  her  affability  and  his  enviable 
position.  He  hurriedly  begged  his  irate  relatives  to 
excuse  him;  promised  to  meet  them  at  the  Franco- 


108        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

British  Exhibition  later  on;  and,  without  pausing 
to  fix  either  place  or  hour  of  rendezvous,  returned 
headlong  to  the  widow's  table. 

That  date  was  memorable  in  the  annals  of  the 
Brodrick-Smith  family  as  marking  "  the  day  when 
Harold  behaved  so  badly."  But  Harold  never  re- 
gretted it ;  he  attained  a  height  of  romantic  bliss  in 
those  hours  spent  with  Mrs.  Lancelot  that  he  looked 
back  upon,  all  the  rest  of  his  life,  with  regretful  emo- 
tion. Everyone  has  his  ideals.  That  afternoon  and 
evening  the  good  youth,  with  his  restricted  interests 
and  the  conventional  society  to  which  his  steady  mid- 
dle-class circumstances  bound  him,  tasted  of  the  fruit 
of  forbidden  paradise.  For  Mrs.  Lancelot  contrived 
to  make  him  understand  that  it  would  be  intolerable 
cruelty  to  leave  her  to  her  own  resources  for  the  even- 
ing. At  the  same  time,  when  she  accepted  his  invita- 
tion to  dinner  at  the  Carlton,  and  to  go  on  to  the 
"  Merry  Widow  " — which  was,  he  assured  her,  a  rip- 
ping piece — she  made  him  feel  that  it  was  an  enor- 
mous condescension  on  her  part  to  accept.  After- 
wards he  never  could  think  of  that  moment  without 
a  blush  of  mixed  anguish  and  delight.  How  he  had 
dared  the  audacious  suggestion  ?  How  hideously  and 
brutally  the  name  of  the  play  had  fallen  against  her 
instant  silence !  No  sooner  had  the  words  escaped  his 
lips  than  every  fold  of  her  mourning  seemed  to  wave 
at  him.  Her  great  eyes  had  fixed  themselves  upon 
him,  had  gathered  a  sadness  that  was  like  a  wail,  had 
misted  and  drooped.  But  then,  how  sweet  she  had 


THE     STORY    OF    A    DAY        109 

been !  She  would  have  none  of  his  blundering  apolo- 
gies ;  she  even  laid  three  delicate  finger-tips  upon  his 
great  red  hand,  to  enforce  the  assurance  that  she 
didn't  mind,  that  she  quite  understood.  No,  indeed, 
how  could  she  think  anything  of  him  but  what  was 
kind  and  sympathetic?  Certainly — this  with  an 
argentine  ripple  of  laughter — he  was  not  a  beast. 
Far  from  it!  She  was  sure  she  would  enjoy  the 
"  Merry  Widow  "  enormously.  She  would  be  very 
glad  to  see  any  widow  that  could  be  merry. 

Here  a  sigh  tripped  up  the  fairy  mirth :  could  any- 
thing be  more  infinitely  pathetic,  thought  Harold 
Brodrick-Smith.  She  was  an  angel,  by  George  she 
was !  He  had  hard  work  to  keep  the  tears  out  of  his 
own  silly  eyes. 

The  terrace  was  nearly  deserted  when  Mrs.  Lance- 
lot gathered  her  trailing  draperies  together  and  dis- 
missed her  new  adorer  until  the  glorious  moment 
when  he  should  fetch  her  in  a  taxi. 

Emerald  found  a  telegram  awaiting  her  in  her  sit- 
ting-room. As  she  read  it,  the  dulcet  plaintiveness 
of  her  smile,  which  still  lingered  from  the  parting 
au  revolr,  gave  place  to  a  look  of  acute  concentra- 
tion. She  stood  lost  in  deep  reflection.  Then  jocun- 
dity spread  itself  on  her  countenance:  a  very  dif- 
ferent kind  of  mirth  from  that  delicate  emotion  that 
went  hand  in  hand  with  tears  of  a  few  minutes  ago. 
She  laughed  aloud,  sharply  and  triumphantly;  and 
with  a  military  decision,  wrote  and  despatched  her 
reply  to  Lady  Gertrude. 


110        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

When  this  was  accomplished,  she  stood  again  a 
prey  to  intense  thought.  Sir  Reginald  meant  busi- 
ness, there  could  be  no  doubt  of  that.  She  did  not 
define  the  business  more  particularly  in  her  mind; 
neither  did  she  care  to  pursue  its  possible  ultimate  re- 
sults upon  her  own  life.  She  merely  told  herself  that 
she  would  be  a  fool  to  refuse  to  grasp  so  powerful  a 
hand  when  it  was  held  out  to  help  her  along  the  rough 
ways  of  life.  The  hurried  beating  of  the  hour  by  the 
little  feverish  French  clock  on  the  mantelpiece  star- 
tled her: 

"  What  bewitched  me  to  engage  myself  to  that 
calf  for  to-night ! "  she  thought.  And  she  weighed 
for  a  moment  the  advisability  of  breaking  the  con- 
tract by  another  telegram,  the  words  of  which  sprang 
instantly  in  her  mind :  "  After  all,  I  cannot  face  the 
play  to-night.  You  will  understand."  But  on  sec- 
ond reflection  she  tossed  the  doubt  from  her.  Sir 
Reginald  was  most  unlikely  ever  to  hear  of  it.  And 
she  liked  the  prospect  of  the  restaurant  dinner,  of  the 
lights,  the  crowd,  the  champagne,  and  the  music  and 
the  adoration  of  her  cavalier — even  if  he  was  a  calf. 

So  she  went  gaily  into  her  bedroom  and  summoned 
the  willing  Muriel.  There  was  a  dress,  all  jet  and 
spangle,  that  was  mourning  enough  and  yet  spark- 
ling enough  to  fit  the  peculiar  situation.  She  resisted 
Muriel's  admiring  suggestion  of  "  Just  one  of  them 
lovely  roses  in  front,  m'a'm."  But  when  her  attend- 
ant was  dismissed,  the  widow,  consulting  her  coun- 
tenance critically  in  the  glass,  deemed  that  complete 
pallor  was  no  longer  the  note  required.  A  touch  of 


THE     STORY     OF     A     DAY        111 

shell-like  pink  on  each  cheek  would  poetically  indi- 
cate a  possible  return  of  hope  to  a  bruised  heart. 

She  wore  a  jet  coronet  on  her  golden  head;  long 
chains  of  the  same  swayed  and  jingled  as  she  moved, 
and  gave  out  shafts  of  black  fire. 

When  she  came  in  upon  him,  Mr.  Brodrick-Smith, 
who  had  been  anxiously  waiting  in  the  pink  brocade 
nest,  feeling  his  head  swim  with  the  scent  of  the  lilies 
and  the  intoxicating  prospect  of  the  evening,  thought 
that  he  had  never  conceived  so  radiant  a  vision. 

Yet  when  his  first  suffocating  sense  of  embarrass- 
ment and  rapture  had  subsided,  he  was  conscious  of 
a  subtle  change  in  the  lady's  manner.  She  was  as 
sweet  as  ever,  but  more  aloof.  The  condescension 
was  ever  more  marked,  and  the  appeal  for  sympathy 
and  pity  ever  fainter.  He  had  had  wild  hopes  of 
future  meetings:  they  were  suavely  but  irrevocably 
dashed.  She  was  quite  unable  to  make  any  plans. 
To-morrow  she  was  due  to  some  very  dear  friends  at 
Windsor — to  Sir  Reginald  and  Lady  Gertrude  Es- 
dale.  Of  course  Mr.  Brodrick-Smith  knew  the  Gen- 
eral ?  Well,  he  must  have  seen  him,  at  least  known  of 
him. 

The  poor,  disconsolate  young  man  babbled  inar- 
ticulately. If  those  were  her  friends  he  had  about 
as  much  chance  as  ...  Oh,  yes,  he  had  seen 
Sir  Reginald,  known  of  him,  in  much  the  same  way 
as  he  had  seen  and  known  of  his  sovereign.  He 
scarcely  recovered  the  power  of  speech  in  his  first 
bumper  of  champagne. 


DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

For  Mrs.  Lancelot,  however,  the  evening  was  tol- 
erably satisfying.  She  met  no  other  acquaintances 
(which  was  just  as  well,  she  thought),  but  she  was 
conscious  of  attracting  a  great  deal  of  attention; 
conscious  also  of  the  pride  which  swelled  the  bosom 
of  the  youth  beside  her  as  he  marked  the  long  looks 
and  the  many  opera  glasses  levelled  upon  her  stall. 
She  enjoyed  that.  She  enjoyed,  too,  the  facility  with 
which,  by  a  smile  and  a  word,  she  could  raise  her 
cavalier  to  an  intoxicating  altitude,  and  the  equal 
facility  with  which  she  could  topple  him  off  again. 

The  toppling-off  process  she  deemed  it  wise  to 
employ  unremittingly  during  the  homeward  drive; 
and  her  farewell  at  the  door  of  the  lift  was  a  master- 
piece of  sweet  finality: 

"  Good-bye !  Thank  you  so  much  for  your  kind- 
ness— your  very,  very  great  kindness !  I  should  have 
had  a  lonely  evening  but  for  you.  Please  don't  think 
I  shall  ever  forget  it.  ...  Even  if  we  never 
meet  again." 

His  jaw  dropped. 

"  Never  meet  again  !    Oh,  I  say !  " 

She  smiled  entrancingly,  but  with  immeasurable 
condescension. 

"  Life,"  she  said,  "  takes  us  in  different  directions. 
Good-night — good-bye !  It's  been  very,  very  charm- 
ing." 

The  sleepy  porter  yawned.  At  the  last,  as  the  lift 
moved  upwards  with  its  adorable  burden,  he  caught 
a  final  sight  of  her :  she  was  yawning  too !  His  heart 
was  intolerably  heavy  as  he  stepped  out  of  the  hotel. 


THE     STORY    OF    A    DAY        US 

After  Emerald  had  yawned  she  smiled  again.  The 
life  of  the  poor  subaltern  had  merely  touched  hers 
in  passing,  as  the  ripple  of  a  stream  laps  against  the 
water  lily  and  is  gone.  She  would  never  see  him 
again,  for  she  decided  never  to  see  him  again.  And 
in  such  trifles  of  social  intercourse  she  was  an  adept 
at  carrying  out  her  own  purpose.  But  the  experi- 
ence had  increased  her  self-confidence;  so  that,  be- 
sides amusement,  the  evening  had  yielded  her  moral 
benefit.  If  she  had  had  a  doubt,  it  was  now  finally 
removed.  She  would  pursue  the  chancy  way  that 
led  to  heights  still  veiled  in  discreet  mists:  the  low 
safe  path  of  middle-class  respectability  would  not  be 
trod  by  her. 

She  was  little  inclined  to  sleep,  the  dance  of  lights 
and  music  still  whirling  in  her  brain ;  she  would  sit 
an  hour  or  so  in  the  company  of  her  thoughts  before 
seeking  her  bed. 

She  slid  out  of  her  spangled  dress  and  into  her 
white  silk  neglige.  It  was  a  very  becoming  garment : 
voluminous,  yet  with  a  kind  of  placid  simplicity  in 
its  folds.  One  who  possessed  remarkably  good  taste 
had  once  (most  accidentally)  beheld  her  in  it,  and  he 
had  not  been  able  to  restrain  his  admiration;  it 
pleased  her  to  picture  now  how  his  eye  would  kindle 
could  he  but  see  his  petite  madame  with  her  golden 
hair  loose  upon  her  shoulders  (no  need  that  he  should 
ever  suspect  the  existence  of  those  silken  curls  which 
she  had  just  popped  into  a  satchet)  ;  his  little  ma- 
dame  watching  in  the  night,  while  all  the  world  slept ! 
One  dainty  mauve  slipper  half  falling  off  a  delicate 


114        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

foot  still  in  its  black  silk  stocking,  the  bare  arms 
emerging  from  the  Greek  draperies.  .  .  . ! 

After  posing  awhile,  with  much  poetic  dreaminess 
in  her  gaze,  the  widow  roused  herself  to  fetch  the  tele- 
gram from  the  next  room  and  peruse  its  contents 
again. 

"  Gertrude  Esdale,"  she  murmured,  tasting  the 
sound.  Then,  swiftly,  the  thought  flashed :  "  Emer- 
ald Esdale !  "  How  charming  and  original  such  a 
combination  would  be,  and  how  fascinating  to  have 
two  E's  intertwined  for  initials ! 

She  gave  a  tinkling  laugh  to  herself:  what  ab- 
surd ideas  one  had  at  times  ! 

Lady  Gertrude  had  been  a  Fitz-Esmond,  daughter 
of  the  Earl  of  Enniscorthy;  and  the  present  holder 
of  the  title  was  still  unmarried,  as  Emerald  knew, 
having  been  at  pains  to  study  Burke  on  the  subject 
upon  first  making  the  General's  acquaintance.  She 
would  be  very  likely  to  meet  this  interesting  young 
man  during  her  stay  at  Orange  Court.  "  Emerald 
Enniscorthy !  "  Two  E's  again,  and  with  a  coronet 
above!  There  was  no  absurdity  in  that  vision  at 
any  rate.  .  .  . 

The  widow  flung  a  look  at  herself  in  the  long  mir- 
ror which  the  prpprietors  of  the  hotel  had  thought- 
fully provided,  and  with  equal  thought  fulness  had 
flanked  by  a  well-shaded  arrangement  of  lights. 
What  a  fool  she  had  made  of  that  boy  this  evening ! 
If  she  had  allowed  it,  he  would  have  laid  himself, 
his  subaltern  pay,  and  a  third-rate  regimental  ca- 
reer at  her  feet  in  the  taxi,  coming  home — that 


THE     STORY     OF     A    DAY        115 

wretched,  bumping  taxi!  Scornfully  her  nostrils  di- 
lated. Neither  hired  vehicle  nor  one-horse  dogcarts 
were  to  be  her  conveyances  in  the  future.  She  would 
drive  in  her  own  Mercedes ! 

Her  thoughts  here  flew  off  at  a  tangent  to  very 
different  quarters.  If  she  chose  .  .  .  she  could 
have  her  own  Mercedes  as  soon  as  banns  could  be 
called  or  license  bought.  Aye — that,  and  diamonds, 
and  all  solid  comfort  and  luxury  and  all  the  good 
things  of  this  world  that  money  can  purchase! 

Yet,  as  this  solacing  reflection  passed  through  her 
head,  the  widow's  pretty  face  grew  ever  more  dis- 
dainful : 

"  Poor  John !  "  she  said  aloud.  "  John  and — 
Paisley — and  Glasgow  society — and  MacCracken's 
biscuit  all  along  the  line!  Why,  the  MacCracken 
poster  was  the  last  thing  to  grin  at  me  from  Bom- 
bay and  the  first  to  grin  again  at  Southampton ! " 

Then  she  dived  into  the  recesses  of  her  travelling 
bag,  produced  a  case  bulging  with  photographs  and 
letters ;  and,  for  the  mere  luxury  of  it,  fell  to  making 
comparisons — comparisons  of  the  past  with  the  pres- 
ent, of  the  might  have  been  with  the  might  be. 

Two  or  three  photographs,  bound  with  an  india- 
rubber  ring,  together  with  a  couple  of  letters,  she  se- 
lected from  the  rest.  She  spread  the  photographs 
out  on  her  dressing-table,  and,  propping  her  chin  on 
her  hand,  fell  to  contemplation.  Here  were  an  early 
portrait  of  herself,  a  family  group,  and  the  head  of 
a  young  man.  Characteristically,  she  took  up  her 
own  picture  first.  No  disfiguring  arrangement  of 


116       DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

ringlets,  no  odious  suburban  fashion  of  garments 
could  disguise  the  delicate  prettiness  of  the  face  that 
already  looked  out  upon  the  world  with  appeal  in  the 
eyes  and  a  self-conscious  smile  on  the  lips. 

Emerald  recognised  the  prettiness  in  her  frank, 
picturesque  way :  "  I  was  a  darling  little  creature ! 
But,  Lord,  what  a  garment  to  give  me!  And  those 
curls!" 

Yes,  she  remembered  the  fashioning  of  those  curls, 
and  how  proud  she  had  been  of  them — at  Surbiton. 
But  she  was  afraid  she  could  not  keep  that  picture. 
No,  she  could  not  risk  its  ever  falling  under  other 
eyes,  in  spite  of  its  attraction.  The  curls  were  too 
stamping.  With  a  sigh  she  tore  the  cardboard  across 
and  across  and  flung  the  fragments  into  the  grate. 

She  had  no  hesitation  in  sending  the  next  picture 
the  same  way.  That  dreadful  porch  of  Elmhurst, 
the  semi-detached  villa;  her  poor,  dear  mother  with 
that  appalling  cap — a  dome  of  white  muslin  with 
mauve  ribbons — and  the  gros-grain  black  silk  (her 
best)  that  had  a  worm-like  decoration  of  narrow  white 
lace  upon  it!  And  Uncle  John!  The  photograph 
had  been  taken  to  commemorate  his  visit  to  Elmhurst 
— Uncle  John  with  his  tall  hat  and  white  spats,  mut- 
ton-chop whiskers,  and  protuberant  waistcoat !  Pros- 
perous trade  was  blazoned  all  over  him.  Here  was 
she,  too,  again — curls  and  all !  And  cousin  John — 
awkward,  shambling  hobbledehoy  with  frontal  wave 
of  hair,  well  macassared !  She  shuddered,  and,  in  all 
haste,  tore  the  tell-tale  presentment. 

Over  the  last  she  paused:    it  was   cousin  John 


THE     STORY    OF    A    BAY        117 

again.  The  frontal  wave  was  less  aggressive,  the 
rough-hewn,  uncomely  visage  of  the  boy  had  taken 
a  certain  virile  determination.  Shrewdness  looked 
out  under  the  bushy  Scot's  eyebrows,  and  the  curve 
of  jaw  and  the  line  of  thin  lips  told  of  one  who  had 
already  begun  to  impose  his  will  on  the  world.  Em- 
erald feared  the  collar  was  all  wrong;  wrong  the 
tie,  and  wrong  what  could  be  seen  of  a  frock  coat. 
Already  her  little  fingers  had  fixed  themselves  upon 
the  cardboard,  to  destroy  it,  but  she  refrained.  One 
never  knew.  John  might  come  in  useful  yet. 

Then,  because  it  was  her  way  to  throw  a  gossamer 
veil  of  sentiment  over  all  her  actions,  she  allowed  a 
dreamy  pity  to  creep  over  her  countenance.  .  .  . 
Here  was  a  faithful  heart  that  had  loved  her  since 
she  was  a  child!  Poor  John,  how  he  had  loved  her! 
He  was  faithful  to  her  still,  in  spite  of  the  barrier 
marriage  had  placed  between  them.  She  knew  very 
well  that,  with  her  widowhood,  his  hopes  had  risen 
again,  for  was  not  here,  under  her  hand,  his  last  let- 
ter to  India,  revealing  the  fact?  One  of  those  droll, 
abrupt  letters  of  his  which  meant  so  much  and  said  so 
little!  No,  for  the  memory  of  such  loyalty  John 
should  not  be  torn  in  two ! 

She  was  melting  with  compassion  for  him,  that  he 
should  be  doomed  to  do  without  her,  as  she  slipped 
his  photograph  and  his  last  letter  back  under  the 
india-rubber  ring.  One  thing  was  certain :  should  she 
ever  be  fated  to  wear  a  coronet  over  those  two  en- 
twined E's,  John  was  safe  to  make  her  a  magnificent 
present.  If  Fate  held  another  contingency — but  that 


118        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

was  a  contingency  which  Emerald  was  determined  not 
to  contemplate  yet,  one  never  could  tell  what  would 
happen;  it  was  just  possible  Sir  Reginald  might 
become  a  widower  (such  things  had  been),  and  honest 
John  MacCracken,  of  Paisley,  might  express  his  opin- 
ion in  less  agreeable  fashion.  Moved  by  a  sudden  im- 
pulse, she  stretched  out  her  little  hand,  drew  from  the 
case  yet  another  portrait,  a  cabinet  photograph  this 
time,  bearing  the  presentment  of  a  handsome,  aristo- 
cratic head.  Sir  Reginald  and  John  MacCracken! 
John  and  respectable  middle-class  affluence ;  Sir  Regi- 
nald and No,  there  could  be  no  hesitation.  Sir 

Reginald's  photograph  was  propped  in  a  prominent 
position  on  the  mantelpiece. 

"  The  dear  fellow,"  said  the  widow  sentimentally, 
"  how  nicely  his  hair  grows  on  his  temples ! " 

John  was  consigned  back  to  the  inner  pocket  of 
the  morocco  case.  And  the  widow  went  to  bed.  Her 
mind  was  full  of  agreeable  plans  for  the  morrow.  A 
visit  to  Madame  Agathe,  whose  confections  she  had 
so  much  admired  on  Mrs.  Jamieson.  A  visit  to 
Holroyd  and  Rossiter,  those  jewellers  in  whose  col- 
lection she  was  to  choose  for  herself  some  token  of 
Sir  Reginald's  grateful  regard — at  his  own  request, 
a  request  so  urgently  proffered  that  she  really  could 
not,  in  kindness,  have  refused.  Thereafter  the  start 
for  Orange  Court.  It  was  all  new,  exciting,  delight- 
ful. ...  In  this  mood  she  fell  asleep. 


BOOK  II 
A    WEEK'S     CHRONICLE 


CORALIE  ordered  her  husband  to  take  her  out  that 
night  to  dine — Savoy ;  to  the  play — "  Merry 
Widow  " ;  possibly,  if  the  spirit  moved  her,  to  sup — 
Carlton.  She  guessed  (with  one  of  her  taunting 
assumptions  of  Americanism)  that  she  had  had 
about  enough  of  Granma  Enniscorthy  and  Momma 
Jamieson  for  one  day. 

Captain  Jamieson  looked  dubious ;  Coralie  had 
enjoyed  about  an  hour  of  her  august  relative's 
company  in  all;  if  this  was  too  much  for  her, 
how  was  the  fortnight's  visit  to  be  gone  through? 
Moreover,  he  thought  it  hardly  kind  to  leave  his 
mother  on  the  first  night.  But  Coralie  had  an  answer 
to  each  objection.  If  Ernest  desired  her  to  be  able 
to  stand  "  it "  at  all,  he  must  allow  her  to  become 
accustomed  to  "  it  "  gradually.  If  she  were  to  get 
too  big  a  dose  of  "  it "  all  at  once,  she  really  could 
not  answer  for  the  consequence.  (Coralie  said  her 
"  reelly  "  in  a  very  engaging  way,  and  blinked  her 
eyelashes.  She  looked  angelic,  yet  determined.) 

"  As  for  that  mother  of  yours,"  she  went  on,  "  she 
would  not  be  a  bit  aggrieved  if  you  were  going  off 
to  dine  at  the  club,  or  had  any  other  kind  of  bachelor 
engagement.  She'd  respect  your  masculine  indepen- 
dence. She'd  say :  '  Yes,  do  go,  dear  boy,'  and  be 
tickled  to  death  to  think  you  were  leaving  me  at 


DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

home — *  Tickled  to  death '  is  rather  a  good  phrase 
for  the  family,  don't  you  think? — I'm  practising  to 
bring  it  out  naturally. — No,  Ernest,  you  needn't 
shake  your  head  and  laugh.  It's  perfectly  true. 
Your  mother  will  only  think  you  wanting  in  filial 
kindness  if  you  take  out  your  own  wife.  Well,  now, 
you  bet?  Suppose  you  try  her?  " 

But  Ernest  declined  the  experiment.  The  accuracy 
of  his  wife's  insight  struck  home.  He  knew  he  would 
lose  that  wager.  He  was  very  fond  of  his  mother, 
and  only  vaguely  disturbed  at  her  attitude  towards 
his  wife,  which  he  supposed  was  "  the  usual  kind  of 
thing."  But  he  was  startled  sometimes  to  hear  her 
motives  dissected  by  Coralie's  unsparing  scalpel. 

"  Well,  you'll  have  to  hurry,  then,  if  we  are  to  be 
in  time  for  the  play,"  he  said,  stumping  off  to  his 
dressing-room. 

Coralie  gave  a  little  chuckle  as  she  turned  to  her 
mirror.  She  never  had  undue  trouble  in  getting  her 
own  way. 

Ernest,  in  a  fit  of  moral  cowardice,  which  your 
big,  burly  men,  who  would  face  with  a  grin  a  horde 
of  savages,  often  enough  display  in  their  relations 
with  their  women-kind,  sent  his  mother  an  affectionate 
scrawl  to  announce  his  desertion.  He  did  not,  there- 
fore, meet  her  again  till  next  morning,  at  a  tete-a- 
tete  breakfast ;  but  then,  through  unforeseen  cir- 
cumstances, he  escaped  the  scene  of  plaintive  mater- 
nal reproach  he  had  been  anticipating  with  acute  dis- 
comfort. 

It  seemed  that  on  the  previous  evening  Lady  En- 


A    WEEK'S     CHRONICLE 

niscorthy  had  felt  very  unwell,  chilly  and  fatigued, 
shortly  before  dinner,  and  that  Lady  Florence, 
alarmed,  had  sent  for  Sir  James  Broadwood.  Lady 
Enniscorthy  had  consented  to  see  the  physician  when 
his  presence  in  the  house  had  been  duly  broken  to 
her — a  fact  which  anyone  who  knew  the  sturdy  old 
lady's  contempt  for  medicine  and  objection  to  doc- 
tors could  not  but  realise  as  ominous. 

She  had,  further,  answered  his  questions  and  ac- 
cepted his  advice  with  unprecedented  meekness;  had 
gone  to  bed  on  his  suggestion ;  had  taken  the  dinner 
he  prescribed,  nothing  more  disturbing  to  the  diges- 
tion than  a  fillet  of  sole,  toast,  and  a  little  dry  cham- 
pagne. 

In  private  consultation  Lady  Florence  had  found 
the  great  doctor  guarded,  though  hopeful.  He 
ascribed  the  indisposition  to  the  unwonted  exertions 
of  the  afternoon.  He  understood  there  had  been 
some  anxiety  of  mind  and  the  extraordinary  event  of 
a  motor  drive.  He  hardly  anticipated  serious  re- 
sults, but  at  Lady  Enniscorthy's  age  one  never  could 
tell.  .  .  .  Lady  Florence,  trembling  at  her  own 
audacity,  had  implored  him  to  look  in  again  in  the 
morning. 

All  these  items  of  information  were  poured  into 
Ernest's  ear.  It  was  further  impressed  upon  him 
what  a  night  of  agony  his  mother  had  passed,  and 
how,  although  "  dear  grandmamma  "  had  slept — 
Lady  Florence's  tone  was  as  lugubrious  as  if  she 
were  announcing  a  demise — she  had  awakened  sneez- 
ing violently. 


DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

"  I  have  sent  for  Sir  James  to  come  as  early  as 
possible.  I  feel  very  anxious,  Ernest,  very  anxious 
indeed.  At  dear  mamma's  age — as  he  says — one 
never  can  tell — a  sneeze  may  be  the  beginning  of 
anything." 

So  anxious  did  she  really  look,  that  the  good  fel- 
low, her  son,  was  in  his  turn  perturbed,  and  came  up 
with  a  long  face  to  impart  the  news  to  his  Coralie. 
She,  like  the  lazy  little  cat  she  was,  was  still  cosily 
ensconced  in  bed;  but  she  presented  so  charming  a 
picture  amid  her  pillows,  with  a  lace  cap,  pink-be- 
ribboned,  perched  on  her  dark  curls,  that  one  could 
scarcely  have  wished  her  elsewhere. 

"  Oh,  my !  "  she  cried.  "  Grandma  ill?  You  don't 
say?  I  thought  she  was  made  of  cast  iron " 

"  My  mother  seems  to  think,"  said  the  soldier  self- 
accusingly,  "  that  we  oughtn't  to  have  told  her  about 
Sir  Reginald.  She  says  it  was  altogether  too  much 
for  her — the  anxiety  and  the  effort  of  hurrying  down 
to  warn  Aunt  Gertrude." 

Good  man,  he  had  done  very  little  of  that  report- 
ing; but  the  real  culprit  regarded  the  situation 
cheerfully. 

"  Now,  don't  you  fret  about  that,  honey ! " 
she  cried.  "  Grandma  had  the  time  of  her  life 
yesterday.  Bless  her,  she  never  enjoyed  anything 
more ! " 

Being,  however,  the  most  good-natured  soul  in  all 
the  world,  she  skipped  thereupon  out  of  bed;  and, 
donning  a  dressing-gown  that  she  herself  admitted 
as  "  cunning,"  and  slipping  her  bare  feet  into  pink 


A    WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       125 

satin  mules,  shuffled  off,  without  wasting  a  second,  to 
enquire  for  the  sufferer. 

Lady  Enniscorthy  sat,  wrapped  in  shawls,  disdain- 
ing the  support  of  her  pillows,  bolt  upright  in  her 
four-post  bed.  As  Coralie  entered,  the  old  lady  was 
blowing  that  awe-inspiring  nose  of  hers  with  a  trum- 
pet-sound. She  eyed  the  newcomer  with  the  unwink- 
ing stare  of  reprobation  peculiarly  her  own,  over  the 
folds  of  the  handkerchief,  but  uttered  no  word. 

Lady  Florence  was  occupied  near  the  dressing- 
table,  fitting  together  the  parts  of  a  eucalyptus 
spray.  Jane  Challoner  was  seated  at  the  foot  of  the 
bed.  Her  large,  black,  plumed  hat,  festooned  with 
a  curtain  of  black  lace,  was  tilted  rather  more 
crookedly  than  usual  on  her  wispy  head ;  and  she 
had,  to  an  intensified  degree,  the  battered  air  that 
some  length  of  time  in  her  mother's  society  invari- 
ably induced  in  her. 

She  rose  with  a  fluttering  movement  at  the  sight 
of  her  niece.  She  was  very  fond  of  Coralie. 

"  Dear  me,  dear  me,  so  it's  you,  is  it?  "  she  said, 
and  embraced  her  affectionately.  Then  she  remem- 
bered that  Lady  Enniscorthy  did  not  approve  of 
Mrs.  Jamieson.  She  became  confused ;  and  to  divert 
the  attention  of  that  awful  eye  which  was  now  fixed 
on  her,  she  proceeded  to  exclaim  on  the  becomingness 
of  her  niece's  cap.  "  Dear  me,  and  is  that  the  fash- 
ion ?  I  wonder  how  it  would  suit  me  ?  " 

Lady  Enniscorthy  laid  down  her  handkerchief. 

"  It's   a   style  that  is   eminently   suited   to  you, 


126        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

Jane.  I  should  advise  you  to  get  one  immediately, 
and  pray  don't  omit  the  pink  rosettes  over  your 
ears." 

Poor  Jane  turned  her  long,  silly  face,  with  the  pro- 
truding eyes  and  the  wisps  of  sandy  hair — a  face  in 
the  middle  of  which  a  replica  of  Lady  Enniscorthy's 
nose  found  an  incongruous  place,  in  conjunction  with 
a  retreating  forehead  and  an  equally  retreating  chin 
— doubtfully  upon  the  speaker.  With  all  her  forty- 
seven  years'  experience  she  never  knew  when  her 
mother  was  sarcastic.  Perceiving,  however,  by  the 
old  lady's  expression,  that  she  was  not  really  consid- 
ering that  the  saucy  headgear  would  become  her,  she 
heaved  a  sigh  of  renunciation,  and  hugging  herself, 
gave  her  lean  frame  a  little  shake.  It  was  a  process 
which  appeared  to  afford  her  much  relief  in  all  mo- 
ments of  dilemma.  There  were  certain  hours,  spent 
in  her  mother's  company,  during  which  Jane  Chal- 
loner  might  be  said  scarcely  to  cease  shaking  and 
hugging  herself. 

To-day,  however,  Lady  Enniscorthy,  whose  tem- 
per a  cold  in  the  head  had  not  improved,  although 
her  energies  remained  unimpaired,  had  other  butts 
than  Jane  for  her  shafts.  Lady  Florence  now  ap- 
proached the  bed  with  a  spray  diffuser  in  her 
hand. 

"What  is  that  for?"  enquired  the  Dowager. 

"  Dear  mamma,  Sir  James  made  me  use  it  when  I 
had  that  severe  cold,  last  winter.  It  is  really  a  won- 
derful remedy." 

"  Is  it  you,  then,  who  are  diffusing  that  horrible 


A    WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       127 

smell?  Take  it  out  of  the  room,  Florence.  I  de- 
test eucalyptus." 

"  It's  such  a  disinfectant,"  pleaded  Lady  Florence. 

"  Am  I  so  poisonous?    Keep  away  yourself  then." 

Lady  Florence  retired,  discomfited,  into  the  dress- 
ing-room, and  Lady  Enniscorthy  gave  the  first  sign 
of  recognition  to  her  grandson's  wife. 

"  You're  only  just  out  of  bed,  I  see.  Do  you  re- 
quire anything  here?  " 

Coralie  hopped  up  to  her,  as  gaily  as  a  bird. 

"  Yes,  grandma.     I  came  to  enquire  for  you." 

"  I've  got  a  cold  in  my  head.  There's  nothing  to 
make  a  fuss  about.  I  should  have  been  up  long  ago, 
had  I  been  allowed  to  have  my  room  to  myself.  No, 
I  didn't  catch  it  in  that  motor.  I  caught  it  in  Ger- 
trude's drawing-room,  where  there  was  draught 
enough  to  blow  one  in  two." 

"  Indeed,  I  felt  that  draught,"  sighed  the  widow, 
who  had  now  returned  to  her  mother's  pillow. 

"  It  might  have  been  more  useful  if  you  had  closed 
the  window,"  remarked  her  mother.  Then  she 
sneezed  three  times  with  great  triumph  and  blew  her 
nose  with  so  much  sonority  that  Jane  started  and 
hugged  herself  in  a  spasm  of  deprecation. 

But  Coralie  (as  she  subsequently  told  her  hus- 
band) had  a  tit-bit  of  information  that  she  knew 
"  would  be  nuts  to  the  old  lady,  and  would  do  her 
more  good  than  forty  inhalers." 

With  a  glint  of  her  periwinkle-blue  eye  at  the  sour- 
sweet  countenance  of  her  mother-in-law  the  little 
woman  settled  herself  down  to  enjoyment. 


128        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

"  Did  you  plumb-down  mean  it,  when  you  promised 
that  tiara  to  Aunt  G.  if  she  cut  out  the  widow,  grand- 
ma? "  she  asked,  with  her  candid,  childish  air. 

The  old  lady  surveyed  her ;  a  latent  twinkle  in  her 
otherwise  severe  glance.  If  the  transatlantic 
stranger  had  not  been  introduced  into  her  own  family 
she  would  have  been  distinctly  a  favourite  with  the 
Dowager.  Lady  Enniscorthy  liked  a  woman  to  be 
clever,  pretty,  well-dressed,  and  amusing.  The 
young  American  was  all  that,  and  something  more, 
which  in  her  heart  of  hearts  the  sturdy  old  aristocrat 
acknowledged.  She  was  good. 

Perhaps  Coralie's  quick  intuition  had  detected  the 
inner  sympathy  under  the  outer  assumption  of  dis- 
approval, which  was  maintained  towards  her  almost 
without  relaxation.  Certainly  she  felt  an  odd  kind 
of  attraction  towards  her  redoubtable  relative,  with- 
out any  of  that  fear  which  her  daughters,  even  when 
they  opposed  her,  acknowledged,  and  it  was  this  fear- 
lessness that,  secretly,  most  appealed  to  Lady  En- 
niscorthy. Many  a  time,  while  her  countenance 
was  apparently  set  in  a  mask  of  utter  reproba- 
tion, she  was  chuckling  in  her  heart  at  the  audacious 
sallies,  the  transparent  assumption  of  stage  Ameri- 
canisms with  which  Coralie  delighted  to  startle  her 
in-law  relations. 

The  old  lady  now  answered,  after  her  usual  man- 
ner, with  only  that  twinkle  to  betray  her  thought : 

"  I  am  plumb-down  (if  that  means  in  English, 
quite)  certain  that  I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  saying 
I  will  do  a  thing  without  intending  to  do  it.  So  if 


A    WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       129 

you  think  your  aunt  likely  to  be  successful  in  *  cut- 
ting out  the  widow,'  as  you  phrase  it,  there  is  not 
much  probability  of  your  ever  coming  in  for  my 
diamonds." 

If  anyone  so  high-bred  as  Lady  Florence  might 
be  said  to  sniff,  her  haughty  nose  gave  signs  of  such 
a  manifestation.  She  had,  in  mental  vision,  seen 
herself  the  possessor  of  the  heirloom,  not  to  wear — 
indeed,  her  widowhood  was  unrelenting — but  to  hold, 
for  some  wife,  of  her  own  choosing,  for  Ernest's 
second  marriage,  if  not  for  his  eldest  son.  Coralie 
had  not  yet  provided  the  necessary  heir,  and  remained 
shamelessly  healthy :  but  Lady  Florence  had  a  great 
belief  in  Providence.  She  had  never  certainly  con- 
templated seeing  the  tiara  upon  that  audacious 
American  head. 

"  Oh,  my ! "  said  Mrs.  Jamieson,  hitching  herself 
within  the  sacred  precincts  of  the  four-poster  with 
one  of  her  pretty  undulating  movements,  "  I'd  have 
been  real  simple  if  I'd  ever  thought  I  had  a  mite  of 
a  chance  of  that!  It  would  not  suit  me,  reelly, 
grandma.  I  haven't  the  nose  for  it.  But  I  guess — 
I  guess,"  she  repeated,  rolling  the  words  on  her 
tongue,  "  Aunt  G.'s  going  to  qualify  for  that  prize 
and  no  mistake." 

Jane,  who,  at  mention  of  the  tiara,  had  lifted  her 
countenance — it  had  a  way  of  drooping  as  if  weighed 
down  by  its  nose — looked  furtively  from  one  to  the 
other.  She  had  an  ineradicable  conviction,  founded, 
as  her  family  knew,  upon  no  grounds,  that  the  tiara 
ought  to  be  hers. 


130       DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

"  I'm  sure  we  all  try  to  deserve  it,  dear  mamma," 
she  interpolated.  Then,  catching  Lady  Florence's 
eye,  she  hugged  herself.  "  I'm  sure,  dear  Flo  has 
tried  to  deserve  it." 

The  Dowager  blew  her  nose,  keeping  an  eye  full 
of  humour  on  Florence,  who,  in  tones  dulcetly  con- 
tradicting the  glance  which  she  flung  at  the  indis- 
creet Jane,  was  heard  to  observe  that  the  pleasure 
of  being  of  a  little  use  to  dear  mamma  was  all  the 
reward  she  desired  in  life. 

"  Well,  Aunt  G.  is  going  to  deserve  that  tiara. 
She's  asked  the  siren — Emerald  Fanny — Uncle  Regi- 
nald's plaintive  widow — Mrs.  Lancelot  in  fact,  to 
stay  down  with  them  at  Windsor." 

The  announcement  produced  all  the  sensation 
which  even  she  could  have  desired.  Lady  Ennis- 
corthy  reared  her  fine  old  head  so  suddenly  that  the 
shawl  draping  it  fell  off,  exposing  the  wonderful 
luxuriance  of  her  iron-grey  hair.  She  stared  at  the 
speaker  open-mouthed,  holding  her  handkerchief  aloft 
in  a  petrified  attitude.  Lady  Florence  cried,  "  Cor- 
alie ! "  as  if  the  American  herself  had  been  guilty  of 
the  proposed  enormity;  and  Lady  Jane  jumped  from 
her  seat,  ramblingly  demanding  what  dear  Gertrude 
was  going  to  do  with  Fanny's  emeralds,  and  who 
Fanny  was,  and  what  was  meant  by  dear  Reginald's 
widow. 

"  Dear  me,  dear  me,  it  sounded  so  horrid ! " 

"  Jane,"  said  her  mother,  turning  on  her  with  that 
fulminating  directness  which  gave  her  a  resemblance 
to  a  hawk  striking,  "  don't  be  a  fool !  And  for  good- 


A    WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       131 

ness'  sake  put  your  hat  straight  and  pin  up  those 
streaks  of  hair  behind  your  ears ! — Do  you  mean  to 
tell  me,"  she  went  on,  addressing  herself  to  Coralie, 
without  any  modulation  in  the  indignant  bass  of  her 
note,  "  that  my  daughter,  Lady  Gertrude  Esdale,  in- 
tends to  ask  into  her  house  the  woman  her  husband 
is  making  love  to  ?  " 

Jane,  now  first  initiated  by  these  words  into  the 
alarming  condition  of  her  brother-in-law's  morals, 
yet  too  much  in  awe  of  her  mother  to  give  normal 
vent  to  her  curiosity  and  horror,  abandoned  herself 
to  a  perfect  orgy  of  hugs,  murmuring  sotto-voce  the 
while :  "  How  dreadful,  how  dreadful !  Dear  me, 
dear  me,  Reginald  in  love  with  another  woman! 
How  dreadful ! " 

"  Dear  Coralie,"  said  Lady  Florence,  "  I  feel  sure 
there  must  be  some  mistake ;  you  are  at  times  a  little 
inaccurate." 

"  It's  as  true  as  I'm  sitting  here,  momma — you 
see,  grandma,  Aunt  G.  does  not  admit  that  her  hus- 
band is  in  love  with  another  woman.  Oh,  don't  you 
see  how  clever  it  is?  She  won't  admit  that  Uncle 
Reginald  means  anything  but  ordinary  kindness  to  a 
poor  forlorn  little  creature  whose  husband  was  his 
friend.  So  she  has  asked  the  widow  to  visit  them; 
and  Uncle  Reginald  has  just  got  to  act  the  Good 
Samaritan,  the  courteous  host,  the  virtuous  husband 
and  father,  and  all  the  rest  of  it !  Oh,  don't  you  see 
that  the  more  Aunt  G.  ignores  anything  equivocal 
in  the  situation,  the  more  it  puts  Uncle  Reginald  on 
his  honour?" 


132       DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

"  My  dear  child,"  said  Lady  Enniscorthy,  with  an 
unexpected  change  in  her  voice,  "  it's  a  very  danger- 
ous experiment ! — A  low  designing  woman,  and  a  man 
of  Reginald's  peculiarly  emotional  temperament — 
thrown  into  proximity,  constant  proximity,  and  by 
his  own  wife  .  .  .  Good  Samaritan,  courteous 
host !  "  cried  the  Dowager,  waxing  louder.  "  Fiddle- 
sticks !  you  don't  know  human  nature,  male  human 
nature !  "  She  flung  a  deadly  emphasis  on  the  words. 
"  Under  her  own  roof,  with  my  little  innocent  grand- 
daughter— it's  indecent !  " 

There  were  no  subtle  shades  in  Lady  Enniscorthy's 
view  of  life  and  character.  Men  and  women,  their 
motives  and  deeds,  were  good  and  bad,  in  uncompro- 
mising blacks  and  whites  (chiefly  blacks,  it  must  be 
said).  The  broadness  of  view,  the  allowance  for 
circumstance,  the  toleration,  the  diplomatic  dalliance 
of  the  modern  spirit,  had  no  place  in  her  creed. 

The  impressiveness  of  the  end  of  her  discourse  was 
somewhat  spoilt  by  a  fresh  fit  of  sneezing ;  and  Lady 
Florence  hastily  extended  a  hand  to  replace  the 
fallen  shawl.  As  soon  as  the  fit  was  over,  her  mother 
reasserted  herself  by  taking  off  the  head-covering 
and  putting  it  on  again  at  a  different  angle. 

"  I  am  sure,  dear  mamma,"  said  the  pliable  and 
subservient  widow,  "  that  if  Gertrude   once  under- 
stood  how   strongly   you    disapproved.     ...     I 
myself  can  scarcely  believe  in  such  a  project.     '. 
If  I  were  to  wire  to  her  to  come  and  see  you  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  her  mother,  with  a  final  tweak  at  her 
long-suffering  nose  and  laying  down  the  handker- 


A     WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       13S 

chief.  "  No.  Gertrude  has  made  her  own  bed :  she 
may  lie  in  it.  She  has  not  consulted  me ;  I  shall  in- 
terfere no  more." 

There  was  a  fumbling  knock  at  the  door,  followed 
by  the  sidelong  entrance  of  Consett,  Lady  Ennis- 
corthy's  elderly,  acrimonious  maid. 

"  If  you  please,  my  lady,  Sir  James  Broadwood 
is  in  the  boudoir." 

Lady  Florence  quailed.  She  had  meant  to  prepare 
the  patient  diplomatically  for  the  second  unauthor- 
ised medical  visit.  But  Coralie's  news  had  monopo- 
lised the  situation ;  dear  Coralie  was  so  tactless ! 

"  Who  wants  to  see  the  doctor  ?  "  enquired  Lady 
Enniscorthy.  Her  grey  crest  of  hair  seemed  to 
bristle,  her  eyes  gleamed  with  the  joy  of  coming 
battle. 

"  Dear  mamma,  Sir  James  expressed  a  wish  to  see 
you  again  in  the  morning."  Strict  veracity  was  not 
always  employed  by  the  devoted  daughter  in  her  deal- 
ings with  her  mother. 

"  He  did  no  such  thing,  Florence.  His  very  last 
words  were,  that  he  should  not  come  back  unless  sent 
for.  And  you  had  no  business  to  send  for  him  last 
night.  You  had  no  business  to  send  for  him  this 
morning.  I  will  not  be  treated  as  if  I  were  in  my 
dotage." 

Coralie  slipped  from  the  bed  and  shuffled  from  the 
room  softly.  As  she  stood  yawning  in  the  passage, 
and  stretching  herself — she  had  had  a  pretty  good 
dose  of  "  it  "  this  morning — she  was  j  oined  by  Lady 
Challoner. 


134        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

"  Dear  me,  dear  me,"  said  the  dilapidated  and  in- 
coherent Jane,  "  mamma's  very  much  put  out — I 
wonder  if  I  had  a  cap  like  yours,  but  with  mauve 
ribbons,  whether  it  wouldn't  suit  me  after  all?  It's 
so  coquettish,"  said  the  poor  creature,  with  a  wist- 
ful glance.  "  How  dreadful  it  is  about  Gertrude ! 
Dear  me,  dear  me !  I  always  thought  Reginald  such 
a  nice  man.  Is  this  some  woman  he's  brought  from 
India  ?  Not — not  a  native,  Coralie  ?  " 

"  Now,  look  here,  Aunt  Jane,"  said  Coralie,  kindly 
but  decisively,  "  there's  nothing  dreadful  at  all. 
Uncle  Reginald  had  a  flirtation  on  board  ship — with 
quite  a  nice  little  woman.  Everyone  flirts  on  board 
ship.  You  should  see  me !  And  Aunt  Gertrude  has 
just  got  the  sense  to  put  a  stop  to  silly  gossip  by  in- 
viting Mrs.  Lancelot  to  stay  with  her." 

But  Lady  Jane  had  a  rooted  conviction  in  her 
mother's  wisdom. 

"  Oh,  dear  me,  dear  me,"  she  said,  as  the  situation 
became  as  clear  to  her  as  it  was  ever  likely  to  be, 
"  that's  very  dangerous,  that's  dreadfully  danger- 
ous." 

She  drooped  her  head,  looking  like  a  disconsolate 
and  unusually  foolish  parrot. 

"  Well,  I  must  go  to  my  bath,"  announced  Mrs. 
Jamieson.  But  Jane  arrested  her  with  an  odd,  shy 
motion,  like  that  of  an  out-flung  claw: 

"  Coralie " 

"  Oh,  Aunt  Jane,  do  be  quick !  " 

"  Coralie — no,  I  can't  say  it  here,  let  me  come  into 
your  room  with  you." 


A    WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       135 

"  Oh,  bless  the  idiot !  "  thought  Coralie.  But  she 
was  too  good-natured  not  to  humour  one  whom  life 
had  so  little  humoured. 

"  I'm  so  afraid  of  mamma  hearing,"  explained 
Lady  Challoner,  as  she  closed  the  door  of  the  bed- 
room behind  her.  Then  she  hugged  herself,  leaned 
forward,  and  began  to  whisper: 

"  Let  us  consult  Chiaro  Scuro." 

"Chiaro  Scuro?" 

"  My  dear,  don't  you  know  ?  He's  the  great  crys- 
tal gazer.  Oh,  they  say  he's  the  most  wonderful 
man!  It  just  struck  me:  I'll  go  and  consult  him 
about  dear  Gertrude." 

"About  Aunt  G.?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  my  dear,  he'll  tell  us  about  that  Mrs. 
Lancelot  and  her  emeralds.  Who  knows,  perhaps 
Reginald  gave  them  to  her.  Oh,  Emerald  is  her 
name,  do  you  say?"  Lady  Challoner  paused  to 
savour  this  information :  "  Emerald.  How  nice  it 
sounds !  I  do  wish  mamma  had  not  given  us  such 
plain  names.  I  think  it  is  dreadful  to  be  called  Jane. 
I  should  so  much  have  preferred  to  be  Pearl,  or  Beryl, 
or  Coralie,  like  you — I  once  heard  of  a  girl  who  was 
christened  Diamantina — don't  you  think  that  that 
was  pretty  ?  " 

"  It  sounds  like  a  cement,"  said  Coralie.  "  Do 
keep  to  the  point,  Aunt  Jane.  How  will  Mr.  Chiaro 
Scuro  help  us  in  the  matter  of  Mrs.  Lancelot?" 

"  He'll  see  her  in  the  crystal " — Jane  excitedly 
took  up  the  thread  of  her  discourse  again — "  and 
he'll  warn  us  if  anything  dreadful  is  going  to  hap- 


136       DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

pen.  And,  dear  me,  dear  me,  I  feel  mamma  wouldn't 
approve ;  but  she  was  always  my  favourite  sister,  and 
it  would  be  such  a  comfort  to  know  all  the  truth — 
Chiaro  Scuro  will  read  the  future — everything  just 
as  it's  going  to  happen " 

"  It  sounds  thrilling,"  said  Coralie.  "  And  so  use- 
ful!— Well,  I  won't  split  on  you,  Aunt  Jane;  and 
now  I  must  have  my  bath." 

"  Oh,  but  I  can't  go  alone,"  quavered  Jane.  "  They 
say  he's  such  a  handsome  young  man." 

"  Do  you  want  me  to  go  with  you  ?  "  asked  Cor- 
alie. It  struck  her  that  the  experience  might  be  both 
amusing  to  herself  and  exasperating  to  the  house- 
hold, when  it  came  to  their  ears — which  it  indubi- 
tably would,  without  delay,  as  Jane  never  could  keep 
a  secret. 

"  Oh,  thank  you,"  cried  her  aunt  fervently.  "  Then 
you  can  come  back  to  lunch  with  me,  dear;  and  we 
can  do  some  automatic  writing." 

"  Since  when  have  you  become  a  spiritualist  ?  " 
asked  Coralie,  as  she  rang  for  her  maid. 

"  Oh,  my  dear,  hush !  If  mamma  were  to  hear  you ! 
The  day  before  yesterday  I  went  to  my  first  seance. 
And  it's  been  such  a  comfort  to  me  already!  And 
I've  been  doing  automatic  writing  with  Sophy  Car- 
michael!  And  oh,  my  dear,  we  were  told  the  most 
wonderful  things!" 

"  Mon  bain,  Jeannette,"  said  Coralie  laconically, 
as  a  pert  soubrette  appeared  on  the  scene,  looking 
for  all  the  world  as  if  she  had  stepped  out  of  a 
French  comedy.  "  Well,  Aunt  J.,  just  you  wait 


A     WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       137 

there  till  I  come  back — Jeannette,  arrange  un  peu  la 
coiffure  de  miladi — I  say,  we  are  going  to  have  a 
real  exciting  morning,  aren't  we?  Shall  we  Chiaro- 
Scuro  my  Ernest  and  find  out  if  he's  got  any  little 
widows  up  his  sleeve?  We  might  put  Uncle  Challoner 
into  the  crystal,  too,  while  we  are  about  it.  Oh, 
what  a  pity  my  mother-in-law  is  a  widow;  I'm  sure 
Poppa  Jamieson  must  have  had  consolation  in  his 
poor  time." 

She  left  Jane  muttering: 

"  Challoner  in  the  crystal?  Dear  me,  I  think  I'd 
better  not ! " 


n 

JANE  hesitated,  with  her  foot  on  the  motor  step, 
her  innocent  prominent  eyes  fixed  on  Coralie's  hat, 
which  was  an  inspiration  of  Virot's  for  discreet  im- 
pudence and  morning  simplicity — a  twist  of  black 
and  white  straw  with  one  turquoise-blue  rose. 

"  Do  you  think  I  might  go  home  and  put  on  my 
pink  toque  first?  I  only  wore  this  black  hat  this 
morning  because  mamma  doesn't  like  me  in  colours." 

Coralie  shuddered.  She  knew  Jane's  pink  toques ; 
and  her  love  of  decking  herself  with  incongruous 
finery,  necessarily  cheap  since  Lord  Challoner  had 
other  views  on  the  destiny  of  her  pin-money. 

"  I  picked  it  up  in  the  Edgware  Road,"  went  on 
Aunt  Jane.  "  It  has  a  large  gold  butterfly  in  front. 
They  said  it  was  a  French  model." 

"  Well,  you  know,  I  really  think  I  wouldn't,"  said 
Mrs.  Jamieson,  with  great  earnestness.  "  That 
black  lace  veil  adds  so  much  mystery  to  your  appear- 
ance. The  pink  toque  might  look  frivolous,  almost 
a  little  earthly — you  know  what  I  mean  ?  " 

Disappointment  wrote  itself  on  Jane's  meek  visage, 
but  she  submitted.  Only,  as  she  sat  down  in  the  car 
beside  her,  Coralie  could  hear  her,  as  she  hugged 
herself,  murmur  the  remark — irrelevant  to  anyone 
who  had  not  the  key  to  her  rambling  ideas: 

"  But  they  say  he's  such  a  handsome  young  man." 
138 


'A    WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       139 

The  den  of  the  occult  one  in  Bond  Street  was  dim, 
and  Eastern  of  the  Tottenham  Court  Road;  with 
Japanese  bead  hangings  before  the  windows  and  a 
strenuous  atmosphere  of  joss-stick. 

The  unwholesome  page  boy  who  introduced  them 
paused  and  surveyed  them  blankly. 

"  'Ave  you  an  appointment?  " 

It  was  conveyed  to  him,  with  some  difficulty,  that 
an  appointment  had  not  been  made;  but  that  they 
urgently  trusted  Mr.  Chiaro  Scuro  could  find  time  to 
see  them.  There  was  no  gleam  of  enthusiasm,  even 
of  interest,  in  the  page's  prawn-like  regard. 

"  'Ave  you  paid  yer  fee  ?  It's  two  guineas  the  first 
visit." 

Jane  was  seized  with  a  tremor.  It  was  characteris- 
tic of  her,  of  her  slipshod  life-conduct,  that  she  had 
entirely  omitted  to  think  of  this  important  item. 
She  fumbled  in  the  recesses  of  a  dilapidated  bead  bag 
— it  seemed  to  contain  chiefly  keys — and  produced 
a  few  shillings  and  some  coppers. 

"  Why — don't  you  worry,  aunt,"  said  her  oblig- 
ing niece,  after  a  moment  of  amused  contemplation. 

She  nipped  the  two  gold  and  two  silver  pieces  out 
of  the  little  chain  purse  that  hung  at  her  waist.  And 
the  page,  with  the  first  sign  of  alacrity  he  had 
shown  since  their  arrival,  ran  to  fetch  a  salver,  which 
he  genteelly  extended  to  receive  the  coin. 

He  then  disappeared,  and  Jane  turned  a  pleading 
glance  upon  Coralie. 

"  My  dear,  I'll  pay  you  back,  of  course,"  she 
faltered. 


140        DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

Coralie,  who  knew  the  exact  sum  poor  Lady  Chal- 
loner  was  allowed  to  spend  out  of  (her  own)  two  thou- 
sand a  year,  and  what  strict  account  was  demanded 
of  the  meagre  allotment,  nodded  brightly  back: 

"  Why,  I  rather  think  this  is  my  show." 

She  set  her  aunt's  hat  straight  with  a  little  ges- 
ture that  was  like  a  caress;  noting  the  while,  with 
mixed  compassion  and  mirth,  how  Jane's  sandy  locks 
were  beginning  to  stray  down  her  cheeks  again,  as 
if  endowed  with  some  wayward  life  of  their  own. 

"  Of  all  the  hopeless,  poor  dears ! "  she  thought. 

The  Occult  One  himself  was,  true  to  his  reputa- 
tion, a  handsome  man.  His  clear  English  counte- 
nance had  been  artificially  bronzed  and  his  pale 
grey  eyes  looked  out  of  this  dark  setting  with  unmis- 
takably weird  effect — the  eyes  of  the  "  seer,"  his 
devotees  were  wont  enthusiastically  to  aver.  At 
their  first  glance  Lady  Challoner  was  seized  with 
the  most  agreeable  and  agitating  sensation  in  her 
spine.  After  that,  not  if  he  had  been  washed  white 
before  her  very  nose,  would  her  faith  have  wavered. 

As  for  Coralie,  she  thought  those  singular  pale 
orbs  in  the  dark  countenance  the  most  alert  and 
acute  she  had  ever  seen,  in  England,  at  least.  For 
the  rest,  he  wore  a  becoming  saffron-hued  turban 
and  a  robe-like  garment  of  sombre  red,  gathered 
about  his  slim  middle  by  a  gold-embroidered  sash. 

After  surveying  his  two  clients  for  a  second  in 
deep  silence,  he  bowed;  allowed  his  gaze  to  become 
abstracted  for  an  appreciable  spell  on  some  distant 
mystic  horizon,  then,  bringing  it  swiftly  back  upon 


A    WEEK'S     CHRONICLE 

the  young  and  pretty  woman,  pointed  his  forefinger 
at  her : 

"You  wish  to  consult  me?"  he  said,  in  tones 
which  again  titillated  Jane's  spinal  cord. 

"  Shot  number  one,  wrong !  "  said  the  little  Ameri- 
can to  herself. 

"  Why,  no,  professor,"  she  responded,  in  cheerful, 
business-like  tones.  "  I'm  just  accompanying  this 
lady." 

Chiaro  Scuro's  light  eyes  fixed  themselves  now 
upon  Jane,  with  a  distinct  lack  of  enthusiasm. 

"  Will  you  come  with  me  now  into  the  inner 
room?  "  he  said,  fatally.  Then  he  wheeled  back  on 
Coralie.  "  But  my  message  is  for  you,"  he  an- 
nounced. 

Coralie  guessed  he  was  a  bright  man. 

"  Come  with  me,"  said  Jane,  releasing  herself  from 
her  own  embrace,  to  give  a  timid  clutch  at  her  com- 
panion. 

"  Nay,  madam,"  said  the  seer ;  "  I  must  be  alone 

with  each  subject.  Those  who  come  to  my  call " 

here  he  broke  off,  for  Coralie  was  undulating  and 
blinking  at  him  in  her  bewildering  way. 

"  Oh,  but  professor,  I'll  be  as  quiet  as  a  little 
mouse ;  I  can't  think  that  any  of  the  dear  spirits  will 
mind  me.  I  promise  not  to  say  a  teeny,  weeny,  little 
word.  Do  let  me ! " 

The  wizard's  professional  gravity  gave  way  before 
an  irrepressible  smile  that  showed  white  teeth,  flash- 
ing uncannily. 

"  Come  in  also  then,"  he  said.     Then  his  acumen 


DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

spoke  once  more.  "  They  are  calling  you — and  the 
call  is  irresistible.  You  will  have  to  receive  your 
message." 

The  inner  den  was  still  more  stuffy  with  incense ; 
and  being  hung  round  with  black  velveteen,  carpeted 
with  black  cloth,  and  devoid  of  all  furniture  but  a 
table  covered  with  a  black  tablecloth,  and  two  black 
chairs,  presented  a  truly  impressive  appearance. 
Coralie  trusted  there  was  ventilation  somewhere,  but 
she  did  not  perceive  it.  A  single  but  powerful  elec- 
tric lamp  hung  from  the  ceiling,  artfully  shaded 
so  as  to  concentrate  its  radiance  on  the  table,  height- 
ening the  impression  of  surrounding  gloom. 

Chiaro  Scuro  carried  in  a  chair  from  the  next  room 
with  an  air  that  robbed  the  action  of  all  triviality; 
set  it  with  a  gallant  flourish  for  Coralie,  well  within 
the  circle  of  light,  waved  Lady  Challoner  majestically 
into  the  second  seat  and  himself  took  the  third. 
Then  he  whisked  the  black  tablecloth  away,  and  a 
large  crystal,  reposing  on  a  slender  silver  shaft, 
seemed  to  rise  by  supernatural  agency  from  the  cen- 
tre of  the  table,  throwing  back  the  light  with  such 
brilliancy  as  to  dazzle  the  two  women. 

Coralie,  who  had  a  positive  intelligence,  and  was 
warily  and  amusedly  on  the  lookout  for  the  charla- 
tanism which  she  was  convinced  underlay  every  com- 
mercial psychic  manifestation,  could  not  but  admit 
that  it  was  well  done,  and  the  wizard  worthy  of 
Bond  Street.  She  was  also  conscious  that  between 
the  concentrated  radiance  of  the  ball  and  the  gaze 


A     WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       143 

of  the  pale  eyes  relentlessly  fixed  upon  her  she  might 
very  well  herself  fall  into  a  state  of  hypnotism  if 
she  did  not  strenuously  react  against  it.  The  scent 
of  the  joss-stick  was  overpowering,  and  the  envelop- 
ing blackness  seemed  to  press  upon  her  with  almost 
physical  weight.  She  slipped  off  her  gloves  and 
pinched  her  little  hands  under  the  rim  of  the  table. 

"  Say,  Mr.  Scuro,  do  the  spirits  object  so  much 
as  all  that  to  a  little  fresh  air?  " 

Into  the  seer's  inspired  eyes  sprang  a  quick,  vin- 
dictive look.  But  he  rose,  nevertheless,  and  pulled 
a  cord ;  there  was  the  sound  of  a  sliding  window,  and 
the  hangings  behind  him  began  to  balloon  and  sway 
in  ghostly  fashion,  while  a  draught  of  clean  breeze 
came  gratefully  to  Coralie's  nostrils.  She  was  saved ; 
but  Jane  was  long  past  any  such  help — she  was 
swimming  in  abandoned  will-surrender,  as  completely 
at  the  charlatan's  mercy  as  a  cork  at  the  mercy  of 
the  waves. 

"  I  wish  to  see  your  hands  first,"  said  the  necro- 
mancer to  her,  with  great  severity.  "  Both  hands, 
please." 

Jane,  detaching  them  reluctantly  from  her  sides, 
laid  them  tremblingly  out  for  inspection. 

"  Dear  me,  dear  me,"  she  fluttered.  "  I  ought  to 
explain  that  I  am  not  really  here  for  myself.  Do 
tell  him,  dear,  what  we  want  to  consult  him  about. 
Oh,  dear,  dear,  I  do  hope  he's  not  going  to  see  any- 
thing dreadful  about  dear  Gertrude !  " 

"Fact  is,  professor,"  began  the  good-natured 
Coralie,  "  this  lady  is  in  some  anxiety " 


144        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

"  Hush !  "  said  the  man  of  mystery ;  he  raised  one 
hand  and  his  eyeballs  became  fixed,  to  Jane's  gasping 
admiration.  Then  he  bent  over  the  outstretched 
palms  and,  after  staring  at  them  for  a  while,  an- 
nounced in  a  changed  voice,  that  sent  a  cold  shiver 
through  one  listener,  and  struck  the  other  as  a  real, 
smart  piece  of  business : 

"  You  are  here  about  a  woman.  Someone  dear 
to  you."  The  white  eyes  in  the  dark  face  were  now 
searching  Jane's  changing  countenance.  "  One  who 
is  dear  to  you,  very  dear  to  you  .  .  .  bound  by 
ties  of  blood.  Her  name  begins — begins  with — G 
and  ends  with  E." 

"  Coralie,"  interpolated  Jane  in  strangled  tones, 
"  this  is  too  marvellous  !  " 

The  interview  now  proceeded  briskly,  Chiara 
Scuro  only  interrupting  the  flow  of  language,  which 
he  gave  out  as  though  he  were  the  mouthpiece  of  an 
unheard  voice,  to  bestow  an  apparently  abstracted 
attention  on  Lady  Challoner's  frequent  interruptions. 

Coralie  sat,  happy  in  her  little  current  of  fresh 
air,  more  entertained  even  than  she  had  antici- 
pated. 

The  wizard  began  to  trace  the  line  in  Jane's  palms 
with  one  finger.  Coralie  noticed  that  his  own  hands 
were  limber  and  quick  in  their  movements,  as  might 
be  those  of  a  conjurer. 

"  You  are  impulsive,  highly  sensitive,  deeply  affec- 
tionate. Those  you  are  fond  of,  you  are  very,  very 
fond  of.  You  like  colour;  you  have  remarkable 
taste." 


A    WEEK'S     CHRONICLE        145 

"  Dear  me,  dear  me,  yes,  I  think  that's  true.  I 
do  think  this  is  wonderful." 

"  You  are  sensitive.  You  have  had  many  disap- 
pointments." 

"  Oh,  dear  me,  dear  me !     Yes,  indeed." 

"You  are  married."  His  eyes  flashed  from  the 
wedding  ring  to  the  old-maidish,  oddly  attired  figure. 
"  You  have  no  children.  Your  wedded  life  is  not 
altogether  happy." 

"  Dear  me,  oh,  dear  me ! "  sighed  Lady  Challoner. 

"  But  the  trouble  that  is  now  about  you  is  not 
connected  with  your  own  household — it  is  connected 
with  a — a  sister." 

"  How  marvellous  !  " 

Chiaro  Scuro  drew  an  imperceptible  breath  of  re- 
lief. 

"  I  now  look  into  the  crystal.  Will  you  encircle 
the  crystal  with  your  hand  and  think  of  your  sister." 

There  was  a  breathless  spell. 

"  Your  sister's  peace  of  mind  is  threatened.  I  see 
a  figure,  the  figure  of  a  woman." 

"  He  sees  her,"  whispered  the  irrepressible  Jane. 

"  I  see  the  figure  of  a  man." 

"  Is  he  tall,  and  good-looking,  with  grey,  curly 
hair?  " 

"  He  is." 

"  Oh,  it's  Reginald !  Oh,  dear,  and  I  have  always 
thought  him  such  a  good  husband ! " 

"Your  sister's  domestic  happiness  is  threatened 
by  a  woman."  The  weird  eyes  rested  for  an  imper- 
ceptible moment  upon  Lady  Challoner's  flat  chest, 


146        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

where  among  many  rags  and  tags  of  lace  and  rib- 
band, a  little  watch,  enamelled  with  a  countess's 
coronet,  fluttered  with  each  heaving  breath.  "  Your 
sister  moves  in  a  high  class  of  society.  Her  husband 
is  a  peer " — Jane's  countenance  fell.  "  If  not  a 
peer,  a  man  of  distinguished  position  " — Jane  re- 
vived. "  In  a  very  distinguished  position."  Jane 
positively  sparkled.  "  Though  not  a  peer  yet,  he 
will  be  made  so  one  day." 

"  Dear  me,  dear  me — oh,  I  am  so  glad !  That's 
very  likely.  Don't  you  think  so,  Coralie?  And  it 
shows  there  won't  be  any  scandal  .  .  .  Lord 
Esdale !  "  murmured  Jane  to  herself.  "  Lord  Es- 
dale — it  would  sound  quite  charming." 

"  There  is  a  black  cloud  hanging  over  your  sister's 
life.  She  has  an  enemy — a  woman.  This  woman 
is  not  to  be  trusted.  Let  your  sister  beware 
how  she  receives  her  under  her  roof.  .  .  ." 

"  Coralie !  "  gasped  Lady  Challoner. 

"  The  letter  E  has  a  dominating  influence  on  her 
life.  .  .  ." 

"  Marvellous !  "  Then  Jane  began  to  mutter  to 
herself  after  her  fashion :  "  Emerald,  Emerald !  " 

"  Your  sister's  husband  is  attracted,  greatly  at- 
tracted. He  is  in  danger,  in  great  danger;  but — 
yes,  the  clouds  are  gathering,  I  can  see  but  faintly — 
yet  there  is  a  gleam  behind  them.  Hush,  there  is 
a  name  in  my  ear  ...  I  must  listen  to  that 
voice.  It  says  Emily,  Emily !  Your  sister  must  be- 
ware of  Emily." 

"  Emerald ! "     cried     the    believing    Jane,     anx- 


A    WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       147 

ious  to  set  the  spirit  right.  "  You  must  mean 
Emerald.  .  .  ." 

"  No,"  said  the  necromancer  firmly,  "  Emily ! 
But "  He  stared  intently  again  into  the  crys- 
tal, "  let  her  beware  of  emeralds,  too.  The  stone  is 
destined  to  be  of  great  influence  in  her  life."  Then, 
with  a  sudden  accent  of  exultation :  "  I  see  your  sis- 
ter," he  cried,  "  she  is  walking  in  a  room  full  of 
sunshine " 

"  How  wonderful ;  yes,  that  room  on  the  rose  gar- 
den is  always  a  blaze  of  sunshine. — How  wonderful !  " 

"  She  is  not  in  London — she  is  in  the  country. 
There  is  light  about  her — about  her  head — she  moves 
in  light." 

"  It's  the  tiara ! "  burst  from  Jane  in  a  triumphant 
crow. 

The  mystery-monger  leaned  back  in  his  chair  with 
an  air  of  exhaustion. 

"  I  can  hear  no  more,  I  can  see  no  more,  I  am — 
I  am  weary." 

Jane  broke  into  incoherent  thanks  and  exclama- 
tions. She  rose  and  hugged  herself  as  she  had  never 
hugged  herself  before.  She  felt  extraordinarily 
elated  and  important;  life  had  a  new  interest  for 
her. 

"  When  may  I  come  again  ?  "  she  asked  greedily, 
as  her  babble  lost  itself  in  an  inextricable  phrase. 

"  Come  on  Friday — Friday  will  be  a  day  when  the 
spirits  will  be  benign  to  you."  Then,  with  one  of 
his  lightning  movements,  with  outflung  finger,  the 
friend  of  the  shades  turned  upon  Coralie,  who  was 


rising  (with  an  irrepressible  little  yawn).  "As  for 
you,  beware  of  Tuesdays — Tuesdays  and  wheels — 
that  is  my  message  for  you !  " 

As  he  bowed  them,  with  a  grave  Eastern  bend  of 
his  turbaned  head,  into  the  front  room  again,  strik- 
ing a  gong  to  summon  the  pale  page  in  buttons  from 
the  passage,  Coralie  saw  how  the  beads  of  perspira- 
tion stood  on  the  brown  forehead. 

"  Poor  wretch,"  she  thought,  "  he  works  hard  for 
his  guineas."  But  she  was  conscious  that  the  situ- 
ation had  lost  something  of  its  spice  for  her.  "  I 
shall  never  be  able  to  motor  comfortably  again  on 
a  Tuesday."  She  gave  a  wriggle  of  impatience  at 
herself  and  the  whole  folly  as  she  sat  down  in  the 
car. 

Chiaro  Scuro  stood  behind  the  bead  hangings  and 
watched  the  smart  little  motor  carry  its  occupants 
from  the  door.  Then,  whistling  a  refrain  from 
"  The  Gay  Gordons,"  he  stepped  jauntily  into  an- 
other room — which  wore  a  most  material  appearance 
of  cheerfulness,  bad  art  and  good  business — picked 
up  Who's  Who  and  a  "  Peerage "  from  the  highly 
veneered  American  bureau,  and,  flinging  himself  into 
a  rocking-chair,  began  to  turn  over  the  pages  rap- 
idly with  his  deft  conjurer's  fingers.  Starting  with 
Esdale,  he  soon  had  ample  information  at  his  com- 
mand, of  which,  after  jotting  down  the  Friday  ap- 
pointment, he  began  to  make  copious  notes  in  a 
ledger  of  a  very  private  appearance. 

It  was  only  half-past  twelve  when  they  emerged 


A     WEEK'S     CHRONICLE 

from  their  seance;  and  Coralie,  sniffing  the  warm  air, 
suggested  a  spin  round  the  park.  But  Jane  had 
other  views  for  the  spending  of  the  hour  intervening 
before  lunch.  She  wanted  to  go  home  and  initiate 
Coralie  into  the  marvels  of  automatic  writing.  She 
felt  sure  that  the  mystic  world  was  strongly  about 
her  after  their  wonderful  experience;  that  now  or 
never  was  the  moment  for  communication  with  it. 

Coralie  could  not  disappoint  her ;  indeed,  this  for- 
lorn, prematurely  aged  creature  was  as  pathetic  and 
appealing  as  any  child.  With  a  reluctant  sigh  she 
gave  orders  to  be  driven  to  Harley  Street — that  be- 
ing the  cheerful  quarter  where  Lord  Challoner's 
cheerful  residence  was  situate. 

Challoner  House  achieved  a  triumph  of  grime  as 
it  presented  its  large  flat  front  amid  the  aggressive 
brightness  of  its  medical  neighbours.  There  is  some- 
thing about  the  shine  of  a  doctor's  letterbox,  the 
starchy  whiteness  of  his  lace  curtains,  the  mahogany 
varnish  of  his  hall  door  that  grins  at  you  with  the 
ghastly  mirth  of  the  dentist's  specimen  set  of  teeth. 

But  Lord  Challoner  had  no  reason  to  regard  cheer- 
iness  and  cleanliness  as  lucrative.  His  great  gloomy 
mansion  was  tended  by  as  few  servants  as  possible; 
his  windows  may  have  been  cleaned,  occasionally — 
daylight  being  cheaper  than  artificial  illumination ; 
but  within  the  memory  of  man,  no  painter  or  paper- 
hanger  had  been  seen  inside  those  precincts. 

Coralie  had  had  brief,  but  sufficient,  acquaintance 
with  the  house  and  its  owner;  acquaintance  which 
had  left  indelible  impression.  She  remembered  Ring- 


150        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

wood,  the  antique,  bibulous  butler,  whom  Lord  Chal- 
loner  retained  in  his  service  because — on  account  of 
this  obvious  propensity — he  could  get  him  at  such 
reduced  wages.  For  the  counterpart  of  which  reason 
Ringwood  remained  with  his  lordship. 

"  I  take  good  care,"  said  the  nobleman,  "  that  he 
doesn't  drink  my  spirits  and  wines."  And  in  a  mo- 
ment of  complete  expansion,  he  had  been  known  to 
remark :  "  The  man  eats  a  deal  less  than  one  of  your 
blamed  healthy,  sober  fellows." 

Lady  Challoner  liked  Ringwood,  who  was,  she 
said,  very  kind  to  her.  And,  in  his  own  way,  it  was 
true  that  he  had  a  compassionate  regard  for  his 
mistress,  though  she  had  an  absent  way  of  calling 
him  "  Ringworm "  which  drove  him  alternately  al- 
most to  tears  or  to  apoplectic  rage,  according  as  his 
last  potation  had  left  him  maudlin  or  morose. 

Except  for  a  certain  quavering  of  the  legs  and 
the  beacon  of  his  nose,  Ringwood  was  gloomily  sober 
that  morning.  He  became  almost  sepulchral  when  he 
realised  that  there  would  be  one  extra  for  lunch.  But 
Jane  was  too  much  occupied  with  her  new  idea  to 
pay  any  attention  to  this  omen.  She  hurried  Coralie 
through  the  dank  hall,  up  the  mouldy  stairs,  haunted 
by  perceptible  ghosts  of  departed  mutton  and  in- 
eradicable cabbage,  to  the  room  derisively  known  as 
her  ladyship's  boudoir. 

Coralie  thought  that  the  seer's  den  had  been  frivo- 
lous compared  to  this  apartment,  with  its  flock  paper 
that  had  once  been  chocolate  brown  and  was  now 
every  shade  of  decomposed  hue ;  with  its  great  blank 


window,  dirt-encrusted,  looking  over  a  blank  wall — 
and  therefore  unshaded  by  any  protective  drapery. 
It  had  a  Brussels  carpet  purchased  at  the  time  of 
Jane's  marriage,  which,  with  its  fearsome  terra- 
cotta and  putty  design,  "  rose  up  out  of  all  the 
dinginess  and  slapped  you  in  the  face,"  as  Coralie 
described  it.  To  add  a  last  and  almost  fantastic 
touch — a  row  of  silhouttes,  in  court  plaster,  of  by- 
gone Challoner  relatives,  and  of  daguerreotypes  with 
livid  blue  sheen  had  been  hung  around  the  room,  by 
a  hand  that  disdained  symmetry. 

The  American  shivered  as  the  door  closed  her  in; 
but  Jane  was  in  fever  of  joyous  impatience  and  would 
permit  of  no  dallying  before  setting  to  business. 

She  produced  some  loose  sheets  of  paper  from  a 
pile,  part  of  which  was  already  covered  with  the  most 
fantastic  squirls. 

"  Now,  dear  Coralie,  you  see,  I  take  the  pencil  in 
my  left  hand,  and  you  place  your  fingers  upon  my 
wrist.  I  feel  sure  you  are  a  medium — dear  me,  isn't 
it  interesting?  You  see,  I  couldn't  write  like  this,  if 
I  tried.  So  it  must  be  supernatural  agency,  as 
Sophy  Carmichael  says.  .  .  .  Oh,  they're  com- 
ing, they're  coming!  Don't  you  feel  them?" 

Jane's  lean  form  began  to  twitch  in  an  alarming 
manner,  but  her  countenance  was  beatific.  The  fin- 
gers clutching  the  pencil  jerked,  and  the  pencil  exe- 
cuted a  flourish  distantly  resembling  a  cocoon. 

"  Now  we  must  ask  It  questions,"  panted  Jane. 

"  Ask  who?  "  demanded  Coralie,  her  lip  tilted  with 
astonishment,  regardless  of  grammar. 


152        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

"  It,"  answered  Jane  solemnly.     "  It — my  spirit, 
my  earth  spirit.     Ask,  ask :  *  Are  you  there  ?  ' 
"Are  you  there?"  said  the  other  obediently. 

Afterwards  she  gave  a  full  description  of  the  scene 
to  her  husband : 

"  I  declare  one  would  never  have  believed  it,  if  one 
had  not  been  there:  I  really  do  think  there  was 
some  little  devil  making  fun  of  poor  old  Jane.  The 
questions  she  made  me  ask,  and  the  things  that  that 
pencil  wrote ;  and,  oh  my,  its  handwriting  and  spell- 
ing !  A  typsy  fly  would  have  been  ashamed  of  them ! 
— 'Are  you  there?'  I  asked. — 'Yes,'  wrote  the 
thing. — '  Who  are  you?  '  (That  was  my  own  ques- 
tion, I  thought  I'd  just  like  to  know.)  It  was  not 
going,  however,  to  give  itself  away  so  easy. — '  I 
have  many  names.' — Yes,  it  wrote  that;  it  took  us 
about  five  minutes  to  make  it  out.  It  got  so  cross 
in  the  end  that  it  nearly  drove  the  pencil  through 
the  paper.  (No,  Ernest,  it  wasn't  Jane ;  it  was  '  It.' 
It  had  a  very  nasty  temper.) — '  When  did  we  meet?  ' 
asks  Aunt  J. — '  Hundreds  of  years  ago.' — '  And  what 
was  she  then?'  (That  was  my  question.) — 'A 
Merovingian.'  It  broke  the  point  of  the  pencil  over 
that  and  it  cost  us  a  sheet  of  paper  (Do  you 
see  dear  Jane  as  Merovingian?) — '  What  were  you?  ' 
— 'A  Frankish  chief.' — 'What  was  your  name?' — 
*  Caratacus.'  (Oh,  you  may  laugh,  Ernest,  but  it 
reelly  seemed  to  know!) — 'Did  we  meet  and  love?' 
sighs  Aunt  Jane  with  her  head  on  one  side. — '  Yes,' 
writes  the  thing  very  clearly. — '  Ask  it  if  I  was  his 


A    WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       153 

wife?  '  she  whispered  to  me.  The  thing  wrote  *  No.' 
(Well,  of  course,  I  had  to  find  out  more.) — *  What 
was  she  ?  '  What  do  you  think  it  wrote  ?  " 

Here  Coralie  fell  into  one  of  her  helpless  gurgles 
of  laughter;  and  it  was  some  time  before  she  could 
bring  out  the  words: 

"'Light  o'  love!'— It  did,  it  did.  ...  It 
wrote  it  quite  clearly.  Oh,  you  should  have  seen 
Jane's  face — horror  struggling  with  a  lawless  joy. — 
'Was  Aunt  Jane  just  the  same  as  she  is  now?'  I 
asked. — *  Yes,'  it  wrote. — (Oh,  my,  your  relatives  are 
funny,  Ernest !)  '  Would  you  mind,  dear  Coralie,' 
she  murmured  to  me  then,  '  asking  him  what  I  wore 
in  those  days  ? '  And  the  pencil  set  off  at  a  hand 
gallop : — *  Skin,'  spells  out  Jane  and  nearly  faints. 
Well,  I  had  to  tell  her  it  was  all  right  and  that  it 
was  really  skins,  and  that  she  was  probably  a  deal 
more  covered  than  when  she  last  went  to  Court — or 
I  don't  think  she'd  ever  had  any  dealings  with  that 
spirit  again.  She  was  reel  disappointed,  though. 
She  doesn't  see  herself  in  skins,  poor  old  darling! — 
*  There's  just  one  more  question  I  want  to  put,'  she 
went  on  after  a  while :  *  Did  I  know  Challoner  in  that 
previous  state  of  existence?  '  Well,  the  pencil  got 
in  such  a  rage  as  you  never  saw ;  and  It  wrote,  *  No, 
no,  no,'  and  tore  the  paper  right  across.  *  Oh,  my 
dear,  Caractacus  is  jealous,'  says  your  aunt  all  of  a 
flutter.  *  I'm  afraid  he  doesn't  like  Challoner,  dear 
Coralie.'  'Don't  you  like  Uncle  Challoner?'  I  ask. 
And  Caractacus  answers  *  Dam.' — D  A  M — dam. 
He  didn't  put  an  n  to  it,  but  it  read  just  as  emphatic. 


DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

— Oh,  my  goodness,  poor  Aunt  J.,  she  was  in  a  regu- 
lar taking ! — *  My  dear,'  she  said  to  me,  '  I'm  afraid 
this  is  becoming  quite  improper.  .  .  .'  Aunt 
Jane  and  Caractacus !  Oh,  oh — oh !  what  a  morning 
I've  had!" 

The  gong  rolled  through  Challoner  House  as  if 
the  call  to  luncheon  was  the  call  to  Judgment.  And 
Coralie,  accompanying  her  relative  down  to  the  din- 
ing-room, felt  as  if  she  were  being  lowered  into  the 
family  vault. 

Lord  Challoner  was  a  small  man,  with  a  bald, 
wrinkled  head,  and  two  tufts  of  yellow-grey  hair 
brushed  fiercely  upwards  from  his  ears.  His  eye- 
brows, on  the  other  hand,  were  bushy  enough  to  have 
furnished  quite  a  respectable  toupee.  Beneath  them, 
his  little  fierce  eyes  moved  with  something  of  the 
restless  cunning  of  a  boar.  His  thin  lips  closed  like 
a  trap  over  a  complete  and  dazzlingly  improbable 
set  of  teeth.  He  was  clad  in  garments  of  an  antique 
cut,  with  a  high  collar  widely  open  in  front  and 
springing  up  in  two  aggressive  points,  between  which 
the  narrow  chin  lay  embedded.  Scrupulously  neat, 
in  person  and  garb,  he  diffused  a  strong  smell  of  the 
common  yellow  soap  which  his  economy  and  his  taste 
preferred. 

When  Jane  had  crowned  her  weak-minded  career 
by  marrying  "  Stingy  Challoner,"  she  had  done  so 
in  defiance  of  any  likelihood  of  happiness,  but  with 
the  full  approbation  of  her  mother.  To  that  type 
of  her  period  and  class  an  earl  was  an  earl;  and 


A    WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       155 

what  could  poor  Jane  expect  but  to  be  married  for 
her  money? 

It  is  doubtful  indeed  whether  Lady  Challoner  ever 
regretted  the  step ;  snubbed  to  the  earth  as  she  was 
by  her  lord — who  despised  her  too  much  to  consider 
her  worth  anger — condemned  to  an  atmosphere  of 
gloom  and  penury,  there  was  yet  a  freedom,  a  sense 
of  dignity  in  her  married  state  and  position,  which 
she  had  lacked  under  the  equally  contemptuous,  if 
opulent,  sway  of  her  mother.  So  long  as  she  did 
not  outrun  her  allowance,  which  with  poor  Jane, 
however,  was  sometimes  the  case;  so  long  as  some 
act  of  hers  did  not  involve  the  spending  of  an  extra 
penny,  she  did  as  she  liked.  And  not  five  years  of 
scornful  commment,  or  still  more  scornful  silence  on 
her  husband's  part,  had  robbed  her  of  her  confiding 
ways. 

She  knew  better,  however,  than  to  confide  the  occu- 
pations of  the  morning,  especially  that  part  of  them 
which  had  cost  two  guineas  of  good  money,  to  Lord 
Challoner;  but  she  slipped  into  her  seat  at  table 
with  a  deprecating,  not  to  say  guilty,  air,  which 
certainly  would  have  roused  his  curiosity  if  he  had 
cared  enough  about  her  to  indulge  in  it. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Uncle  Challoner  ?  "  said  Coralie. 

"  Halle,  hallo !  "  said  the  peer,  stopping  in  the 
trot  with  which  he  had  entered  the  dining-room,  to 
glare  at  her  with  small,  angry  eyes.  "  I  didn't  know 
.  .  .  Jane,  you  never  informed  me  you  had 
issued  an  invitation. — Who's  this  ?  Who's  this  ?  " 

While  Jane  hugged  herself  and  babbled  of  dear 


156       DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

Coralie,  dear  Coralie  introduced  herself  with  distin- 
guished composure. 

"  Humph — you  call  yourself  my  niece,  do  you? 
Do  you  expect  me  to  kiss  you?  " 

The  horrible  china  teeth  here  displayed  themselves. 
It  was  just  possible  that  Lord  Challoner  intended  a 
joke. 

"  Oh,  no,  if  you  please,  Uncle  Challoner ! "  said 
Mrs.  Jamieson  in  her  most  delicate  and  ladylike  tone, 
and  undulated  into  her  seat. 

The  dining-room  was  a  vast  apartment,  and  the 
mausoleum  effect  grew  every  moment  stronger  upon 
Coralie.  The  mahogany  sideboard  was  shaped  like 
a  huge  sarcophagus;  a  couple  of  cellarettes  that 
flanked  it  on  either  side  were  like  small  sarcophagi; 
two  wooden  urns  might  have  held  ashes  of  some 
past  Challoners  for  aught  she  knew.  There  were 
wax  candles,  saffron  with  age,  in  tall,  black,  brass 
candlesticks  on  the  mantelpiece,  which  itself  jutted 
forward  like  a  monument  and  was  of  monumental 
granite.  Over  this  hung  the  hatchment  of  the  last 
Earl — according  to  the  present  Earl's  hilarious 
fancy.  In  specially  jocose  moments  he  would  make 
allusions  to  the  day  when  it  would  be  refurbished  in 
his  or  Jane's  honour. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  Jane  was  allowed  no 
authority  in  housekeeping  matters.  Every  meal, 
therefore,  was  a  fresh  triumph  for  the  old  nobleman's 
ingenious  economy.  Coralie  started  a  little  to  find 
a  massive  silver  dish,  containing  a  small  brown  mess, 
protruded  under  her  nose  by  Ringwood. 


A    WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       157 

"  Rabbit  'ash — mem?  " 

Coralie  looked  at  it  doubtfully,  and  Ringwood — 
an  expression  of  sympathy  creeping  over  his  melan- 
choly red-nosed  visage — bent  and  whispered  in  her 
ear: 

"  There's  a  couple  of  pork  resole — but  I  would 
'ardly  recommend  them,  mem." 

"  Anything  wrong,  anything  wrong?  "  cried  my 
lord,  who,  being  somewhat  deaf,  could  not  endure 
sotto-voce  conversation. 

"  Oh,  no,  Uncle  Challoner,"  said  Coralie,  with 
sickly  mendacity — she  was  hungry  after  her  long 
morning.  She  helped  herself  gingerly  to  a  minute 
portion  of  the  brown  mess,  and  trusted  in  potatoes. 

"  What  will  you  drink— eh?  " 

"  Oh,  water,  please,"  said  Coralie  prudently.  She 
was  anxious  to  divert  attention  from  the  subject  of 
her  food,  as  she  toyed  with  the  terror  on  her  plate. 
— It  was  like  a  dog's  dinner,  she  told  herself.  "  How 
well  you  are  looking,  Uncle  Challoner,"  she  went  on. 

Indeed,  considering  his  choice  of  food,  Lord  Chal- 
loner was  looking  remarkably  healthy,  in  a  wizened 
way. 

This  innocent  remark,  however,  aroused  an  acri- 
mony for  which  she  was  not  prepared. 

"  Well  ? — Well  ?  I  am  this  moment  suff ering  from 
ten  distinct,  mortal  diseases,  young  woman ;  any  one 
of  which  may  carry  me  off  at  any  moment.  How 
can  I  possibly  look  well? — Ask  Jane  there.  Isn't 
she  planning  her  widow's  weeds  already,  eh  ?  " 

"  Dear  me,   dear  me !  " — Jane  started  from  her 


158        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

absent  rapture.  "  What  did  you  say,  dear '  Carac- 
tacus?" 

"  What's  that  ?  "  said  her  lord,  with  the  sudden 
acute  hearing  of  the  deaf. 

"  Rabbit  'ash  or  pork  resoles,"  interposed  Ring- 
wood,  with  evidently  benevolent  intention. 

"  'Ash  ?  "  Jane  was  flustered.  "  'Ash — I  mean 
sole,  Ringworm." 

"  Soles  ?  "  repeated  Ringwood,  touched  on  his  sore 
point.  "  There  ain't  no  soles."  His  lips  curled 
with  withering  sarcasm.  "  It's  resoles,  my  lady." 
("  As  if  there  was  ever  any  soles  in  this  'ouse,"  he 
commented  later  to  the  cook.) 

Coralie  succumbed  at  last  to  laughter.  Lord  Chal- 
loner  surveyed  her  a  moment  or  two  in  silence. 

"  Very  funny,  ain't  it  ?  "  he  remarked  then,  acidly. 

"  Well  " — (it  was  thus  Coralie  finished  recounting 
her  experience  to  her  sympathetic  husband) — "  it 
just  took  away  the  rest  of  my  appetite,  which  was 
rather  lucky,  for  after  the  dog's  dinner  there  was  a 
suet  dumpling.  It  was  half-past  two  o'clock  before 
I  got  out  of  that  vault.  My,  Ernest,  I  felt  I'd  been 
through  just  a  reel  ordeel;  that  I'd  die  if  I  didn't 
have  some  sustenance.  As  I  popped  into  the  car,  I 
gasped :  c  Jules  ! '  And  once  at  Jules's,  '  Soignez- 
moi  un  petit  dejeuner,'  I  said  to  the  head  waiter. 
That's  a  very  nice  man,  Ernest;  he  did  soigne  me. 
I  don't  know  I  ever  enjoyed  a  meal  more — if  only 
you'd  been  with  me,  my  old  darling ! "  she  added 
apologetically. 


ni 

NORAH  had  been  allowed  to  be  present  when  the 
doctor  was  informed  of  the  true  story  touching  the 
thermometer.  Indeed,  Lady  Gertrude  had  bidden 
the  young  lady  narrate  the  facts  herself:  and  the 
young  lady  had  found  it  a  chastening  experience. 
Somehow  the  doctor  failed  to  grasp  the  humour  of 
the  situation;  and  he  likewise  contrived  to  make  the 
perpetrator  of  the  joke  feel  as  if  she  had  done  some- 
thing not  only  unkind,  but  foolish. 

When  he  had  departed,  Norah  turned  for  sympa- 
thy to  her  mother,  and  found  her  grave ;  with  a  look 
in  her  eyes  as  if  she  were  sorry  for  her  daughter — 
not  for  her  unpleasant  half-hour,  but  because  she 
had  so  richly  deserved  it. 

Thinking  back  upon  the  afternoon,  in  the  solitude 
of  her  own  room,  Norah  thought  there  had  been  some 
such  expression  in  Enniscorthy's  glance;  he,  too,  so 
ready  for  mirth  at  her  smallest  pleasantry,  had  not 
seemed  to  find  food  for  it  in  her  most  recent  and 
successful  demonstration.  Upon  this  realisation 
there  had  come  a  storm  of  tears ;  and  thereafter,  the 
banded  hair  and  the  subdued  aspect. 

Now,  towards  eleven  o'clock  the  next  morning,  Ger- 
trude Esdale,  a  cool  and!  charming  figure  in  her 
tan-coloured  tussore  gown  and  burnt-straw  garden 
hat,  was  passing  through  the  hall  on  her  way  to  the 
roses,  when  a  letter,  addressed  in  Norah's  hand, 

159 


160        DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

caught  her  eye.  It  lay  on  the  hall-table,  ready  for 
post.  She  bent  over  it,  and  became  lost  in  a  muse 
of  anxious  complexion.  *'  The  Earl  of  Enniscorthy ." 
What  was  the  child  writing  to  him  about?  How  did 
matters  stand  between  them?  She  could  not  forget 
yesterday's  impressions :  Norah's  cry  of  "  Good-bye, 
dear,  dear  Enn,"  and  his  silence,  his  unresponsive- 
ness,  his  departure  without  a  farewell  look !  She 
turned  the  letter  over  in  her  hand,  one  moment  de- 
liberating whether  she  should  not  take  it  back  to  the 
writer  and  demand  to  see  the  contents.  The  next 
instant,  she  repudiated  the  thought.  She  would 
neither  force  her  child's  confidence,  nor  make  the 
grievous  mistake  of  attaching  importance  to  an 
episode  which,  at  Norah's  age,  it  was  most  desirable 
should  make  no  mark  upon  her  mind.  She  must 
devise  some  other  course  of  action  to  encompass  the 
natural  cessation  of  an  intimacy  which  might  be 
fraught  with  danger. 

As  she  took  up  her  basket  and  scissors  again,  there 
came  a  curious  opportunity  to  her  resolution.  The 
tread  of  a  slowly  ridden  horse  approached  and 
dropped  into  silence  before  the  wide-open  hall  door, 
and,  looking  towards  the  brilliant  square  of  sun- 
light, she  saw,  outlined  against  it,  the  silhouette  of 
rider  and  steed.  The  slight,  alert  silhouette  could 
only  belong  to  Enniscorthy. 

She  came  forward  to  meet  him;  and  as  he  swung 
himself  out  of  the  saddle  and  turned  to  her,  she 
saw,  with  a  leap  of  the  heart,  that  he  carried  a  large 
bunch  of  white  roses.  The  first  words,  however,  dis- 


A    WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       161 

pelled  the  joyful  allusion;  the  mother's  heart  sank 
with  a  feeling  of  disappointment  she  had  hardly 
ever  known  for  herself — the  flowers  were  not  for  her 
child. 

"  Seems  rather  ridiculous,"  the  young  man  was 
saying,  blushing  to  the  roots  of  his  hair — he  was 
always  a  little  shy  of  his  cousin  Gertrude — "  to  be 
bringing  roses  to  this  house,  don't  you  know.  But 
I  thought  Fraulein  might  like  them.  She  was  rather- 
seedy  yesterday,  I'm  afraid  .  .  .  and  I'm  afraid 
we  teased  her." 

Lady  Gertrude,  folding  her  serene  lips  more  closely 
than  usual,  regarded  him  a  while  in  silence  before 
replying.  He  met  her  glance  unflinchingly,  though 
the  colour  rose  higher  on  his  smooth  face.  Then 
she  gave  a  faint  sigh : 

"  Norah  teased  her,  you  mean.  She  is  very  sorry 
for  it  now.  And  we  must  not  forget  that  she  is 
still  a  complete  child,  in  spite  of  her  inches.  The 
flowers  are  a  kind  thought,  Enniscorthy — and  Frau- 
lein will  be  delighted.  She  is  better,  though  we  are 
keeping  her  in  bed." 

She  took  the  roses  from  him ;  and  as  he  turned  back 
and  placed  a  hand  on  his  saddle,  arrested  him: 

"  No,  don't  go  now.  I  will  ring  for  them  to  take 
your  horse  round.  I  should  like  to  have  a  talk  with 
you,  since  you  are  here." 

"  Why,  certainly,  Cousin  Gertrude,"  answered  the 
boy  in  his  courteous  way.  But  there  was  an  air  of 
slight  perturbation  about  him  as  he  followed  her 
into  the  dim,  cool  spaces  of  the  hall. 


162        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

Lady  Gertrude,  with  her  usual  deliberation, 
despatched  the  roses  to  their  destination.  Then  she 
invited  the  young  man  to  accompany  her  into  the 
garden. 

"  The  morning  is  too  lovely  to  be  wasted  indoors," 
said  she. 

The  blazing  sunshine  that  poured  down  on  the 
rosary  drove  them  into  the  shadowed  way  that  led 
towards  the  Home  Park  of  Windsor.  Lady  Ger- 
trude spoke  of  trivial  things ;  but  her  companion 
was  sensitive  enough  to  feel  some  purpose  under 
these  preliminaries.  And,  characteristically,  him- 
self began  the  attack  upon  the  subject  that,  as  he 
suspected,  lay  between  them. 

"  I  know  I  ought  not  to  have  taken  Norah  off  in 
the  motor  yesterday.  I  hope  you  are  not  angry 
with  her — it  was  all  my  fault." 

Lady  Gertrude  paused  in  her  walk.  He  faced  her, 
and  again  her  searching  glance  met  his  honest  eyes. 
He  was  not  blushing  now.  He  looked  self-possessed 
and  detached,  as  he  stood,  a  ray  of  sunshine  tipping 
with  pale  gold  the  thick,  close-cut  hair.  He  was 
far  too  self-possessed  and  detached  for  Lady  Ger- 
trude's wishes ;  her  heart  hardened  against  him. 

"  No,  my  dear  boy,"  she  said,  "  you  shouldn't 
have  run  away  with  my  little  girl  yesterday.  Young 
as  you  both  are,  you  and  she  will  have  to  learn  that 
your  days  of  playing  truant  are  over — Norah  is 
seventeen,  Enniscorthy,  and  people  are  already  be- 
ginning to  attach  importance  to  what  you  do." 


A     WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       163 

The  blood  ran  to  his  cheek  at  that,  but  his  eye 
never  wavered.  He  repeated  his  apology  with  a 
variation : 

"  I  am  awfully  sorry." 

"  Oh,  don't  imagine  that  I  am  angry !  There  is 
nothing  to  be  angry  about.  It  is  quite  a  natural 
thing  in  our  eyes  that  you  should  take  your  cousin 
about — you  are  playmates,  almost  brother  and  sister 
in  each  other's  eyes." 

She  was  looking  at  him  as  if  she  would  read  into 
his  very  soul.  He  made  no  reply  whatsoever.  His 
glance  shifted  from  hers  to  stare  into  the  glade.  No 
line  of  his  clear  young  face  wavered.  She,  who  had 
hoped  for  some  sign  of  emotion  upon  this  statement, 
was  conscious  of  a  sinking  heart.  Mother,  before 
aught  else  in  this  world,  she  felt  for  her  daughter 
a  keen  disappointment  that  she  could  scarcely  ever 
have  felt  for  herself. 

"  He  does  not  care  for  her,"  she  thought ;  "  and 
my  little  girl — cares." 

The  summer  midday  silence  lay  over  the  wood ;  like 
a  sigh,  a  wandering  breeze  set  now  and  again  the 
leafy  forest  breast  a-heaving,  scarcely  enough,  how- 
ever, to  alter  the  shadows  drawn  on  the  wide,  sunny 
patches  between  the  great  beech  tres.  There  were 
white  and  lilac  blossoms  on  trailing  brambles ;  and 
an  elder  tree  was  starred  with  milky  flowers  that 
sent  out  an  aromatic  pungency  to  mix  with  the  in- 
describable sweetness  of  the  beech  leaves  in  the  sun. 

Enniscorthy  began  to  whistle  under  his  breath. 

"  I  say,  isn't  it  a  jolly  day!" 


164        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

Lady  Gertrude  walked  on  a  few  steps;  she  knew 
that  an  inadmissible  discomposure  was  writing  itself 
upon  her  countenance.  More  than  anything  she  had 
ever  wanted,  she  wanted  her  daughter's  future  happi- 
ness. She  wanted  it  ensured  by  position,  fortune 
and  good-fellowship;  and  there  was  no  one  more 
likely  to  bring  her  child  these  desirable  things  than 
the  young  man  at  her  side.  But,  apart  from  this, 
she  had  the  most  passionate  anxiety  to  keep  the  girl 
from  the  blight  of  an  early  disillusion;  and  in  spite 
of  her  watchfulness,  her  untiring  maternal  thought, 
such  a  catastrophe  seemed  imminent.  A  sense  of 
helpless  anger  took  possession  of  her:  the  old  bitter 
resentment  over  the  eternal  inequality  of  man  and 
woman.  Yonder  smooth-faced,  slim  boy,  with  his 
indifferent  eyes,  held  the  happiness,  the  fate  of  her 
child  in  his  hands,  merely  because  of  his  manhood's 
prerogative  of  choice ;  and  she,  because  of  her  woman- 
hood, must  smile  and  hide,  give  no  glimpse  of  her 
desire,  her  anxiety ;  even  as  by-and-by  her  little  Norah 
must  smile  and  hide  and  feign  indifference.  The 
deeper  the  wound,  the  more  gaily  it  must  be  veiled — 
because  they  were — women  ;  because  he  was — man  ! 

The  while  he  stepped,  softly  whistling.  But 
diplomacy  is  the  weapon  of  the  weaker  creature ;  and 
Gertrude  Esdale  was  a  born  diplomatist.  She  had 
failed  to  make  her  young  cousin  speak  his  mind,  she 
had  failed  to  strike  one  spark  of  lover's  fire  from  him ; 
she  now,  out  of  her  knowledge  of  masculine  nature, 
cast  her  last  dart. 

"  It  is  understood,  then,"  she  said  suddenly,  fac- 


A     WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       165 

ing  him  with  a  pleasant  smile,  "  though  we  know  there 
is  no  more  reason  why  Norah  should  not  run  about 
with  you  than  if  you  were  her  brother,  the  world 
does  not  know  it ;  and  as  we  don't  want  all  the  merry 
wives  of  Windsor  to  say  you  are  engaged,  you  will 
please,  my  dear  Enniscorthy,  find  another  young  lady 
for  your  motor  drives." 

"  Oh,  I  say !  "  said  Enniscorthy. 

But  he  smiled  back  as  he  spoke;  and  searching  as 
her  eye  was,  beyond  a  mild,  almost  jocular  air  of 
protest,  she  could  discover  in  him  no  symptom  of 
dismay.  She  continued: 

"  You  may  say  we  can  laugh  at  gossip.  A  man 
can.  A  girl  cannot.  To  us,  of  course,  the  idea  of 
an  engagement  between  cousins,  such  children  as 
you  are,  would  seem  the  utmost  absurdity.  I  have 
always  disliked  the  idea  of  marriage  between  cousins," 
she  pursued  in  a  dreamy  tone  which  was  the  perfec- 
tion of  artfulness. 

"  Look  here,  Cousin  Gertrude,  you've  got  a  trailer 
after  you.  I'll  stamp  on  it,  you  walk  on.  Oh,  no, 
I  say,  that  won't  do!  Stand  still,  and  I'll  get  the 
beggar  off  without  tearing  your  frills.  What  a  bore 
it  must  be  to  have  such  a  lot  of  lace  about  one ! " 

His  face  was  scarlet  as  he  rose  from  his  task. 
Easily  explained,  no  doubt,  by  his  stooping  attitude 
on  so  hot  a  day. 

Lady  Gertrude  went  pensively  across  the  brilliant, 
shadeless  sward  between  the  roses,  into  the  house. 
She  had  gained  not  an  atom  of  satisfaction,  had 
scored  no  point,  reached  no  conclusion.  Neverthe- 


166        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

less  she  had  flung  a  seed  into  the  furrow  of  mascu- 
line perverseness ;  it  might  fructify.  Tell  a  man  you 
prefer  his  not  doing  a  thing — and  raise  the  desire! 

When  they  reached  the  hall  she  picked  up  Norah's 
letter  from  the  table  and  handed  it  to  him. 

"  If  this  is  to  make  a  new  assignation,"  she  said 
with  a  laugh,  pointing  the  double  meaning  of  her 
concluding  words,  "  I  hope,  Enniscorthy,  that  you 
will  be  on  duty,  or  otherwise  engaged,  that  day." 

He  held  the  envelope  between  his  fingers  a  moment 
or  two  before  answering. 

"  Am  I  not  to  see  Norah  any  more,  then  ?  "  he 
asked  in  a  somewhat  low  voice. 

"  Oh,  my  dear  boy,  of  course ;  we  all  hope  to  see 
you,  a  great  deal  of  you.  More  especially  now  that 
your  uncle  has  returned.  He  will  be  sorry  to  have 
missed  you  this  morning.  Will  you  not  dine  to- 
night?" 

He  stood  a  second  longer  in  thought,  then  slipped 
the  letter  unopened  into  his  pocket. 

"  Right !  Thanks,  awfully !  "  he  cried  cheerfully. 
"  No,  don't  trouble  to  ring,  I'll  run  round  to  the 
stables  and  pick  up  my  gee.  Good-bye !  " 

"  I  gave  Enniscorthy  your  letter  myself." 

"What?"  cried  Norah,  springing  up  from  the 
table  where  she  had  been  yawning  over  a  German 
exercise.  "  What,  is  Enn  here  ?  " 

"  He  has  been  and  gone." 

"  What !  Gone  without  seeing  me  ?  Why  did 
nobody  tell  me?  " 


A     WEEK'S     CHRONICLE        167 

"  He  did  not  ask  to  see  you,  Norah." 

"  I  don't  believe  it.  What  did  he  come  for,  then  ?  " 
The  green  eyes  shot  fury. 

"  He  brought  some  roses." 

"  What  has  been  done  with  them  ?  " 

"  They  were  not  for  you." 

"  Not  for  me !  "  Norah's  voice  rose  into  incredu- 
lous shrillness. 

"  They  were  for  Fraulein,  my  dear." 

The  tears  rushed  into  the  same  green  eyes,  and 
Lady  Gertrude's  heart  ached. 

"  For  Fraulein !  How  idiotic !  "  cried  the  girl, 
winking  and  forcing  the  trembling  corners  of  her 
mutinous  mouth  into  a  smile  of  derision. 

Lady  Gertrude  knew  that  this  was  not  the  moment 
for  softness. 

"  You  must  really  try  and  remember,  Norah,  that 
your  cousin  cannot  be  perpetually  at  your  beck  and 
call,  now  that  he  has  duties  and  responsibilities  of 
his  own.  He  is  very  good-natured  to  you.  But  he 
is  not  a  schoolboy  any  more.  I  think,"  she  added 
more  gently,  "  that  your  cousin's  conscience  smote 
him  for  the  trick  that  you  both  played  on  Fraulein 
yesterday." 

"  He  had  nothing  to  say  to  it,"  said  Norah,  who 
spoke  in  a  strangled  voice,  bending  over  her  copy- 
book, and  elaborately  dotting  and  crossing  letters 
even  where  no  dots  or  crosses  should  be.  Then  she 
raised  her  head  and  tossed  her  red  plait.  "  I  don't 
care,"  she  said. 

"  Well,"  said  Lady  Gertrude,  smiling,  "  the  mat- 


168        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

ter  may  now  be  allowed  to  drop,  I  think.  Ennis- 
corthy  will  dine  to-night;  try  and  behave  a  little 
more  decorously  when  you  meet." 

She  closed  the  schoolroom  door  before  waiting  for 
a  reply,  but  not  before  she  had  time  to  see  the  flush 
of  joy  on  her  daughter's  face.  A  deep  sigh  escaped 
her.  Every  fibre  of  her  motherhood  seemed  in  pain. 
How  much  was  her  girl  to  suffer  before  they  reached 
the  end  of  this  episode? 

It  was  only  when  she  passed  the  open  door  of  one 
of  the  guest-chambers  and  saw  the  maids  busy  within 
that  she  remembered  her  expected  visitor  and  her 
own  conjugal  problem. 

A  small  smile  crept  upon  her  lips.  The  phrase 
with  which  a  languid  friend  of  hers  used  to  epito- 
mise existence  returned  to  her  mind: 

"  Life  is  such  a  wear !  " 

She  echoed  it  now  fervently,  with  a  difference: 

"  Men  are  such  a  wear !  " 


IV 

"  THERE  is  our  visitor,"  said  Lady  Gertrude ;  "  go 
out  and  meet  her,  Reginald.  She  will  be  feeling  shy." 

Lady  Gertrude  was  determined  to  oil  the  wheels 
of  the  situation.  But  Sir  Reginald  had  a  vague 
sensation  that  the  wheels  were  going  round  a  trifle 
too  easily  for  safety  as  it  was ;  and  that,  were  his 
wife  to  apply  her  ingenuity  to  putting  on  the  brakes, 
she  would  have  been  better  serving  the  interests  of 
all  concerned. 

With  a  flutter  of  gauzy  veils  and  two  appealing 
hands  outstretched,  Emerald  Fanny  made  her  en- 
trance under  the  roof  of  Orange  Court.  And  in- 
stantly trefle  incarnat  took  possession  of  the  hall, 
overpowering  the  breath  of  the  wholesome  flowers 
and  plants.  The  well-remembered  aroma,  with  all 
its  associations,  seemed  to  catch  Sir  Reginald  by  the 
throat.  He  had  a  quick  sense  of  intoxication — 
followed  by  one  of  revolt.  What  was  this  perfume 
of  the  East  (as  Gertrude  had  styled  it)  doing  here? 

"  Dear  Sir  Reginald,"  said  the  voice  of  trilling 
sweetness  that  had  been  wont  to  convey  such  undi- 
luted music  to  his  ear — "  dear  Sir  Reginald,  how 
strange  and  delightful  to  find  myself  here,  with  you 
— you  wonderful  man,  how  did  you  manage  it  ?  " 

Sir  Reginald  halted  for  an  imperceptible  moment 
169 


170        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

in  his  advance;  this  greeting  struck  him  as  singu- 
larly maladroit  in  the  circumstances.  How  glad  he 
was  that  Gertrude's  almost  inconceivable  attitude  of 
confidence  should  have  kept  her  out  of  hearing. 

"  I  am  afraid,"  he  said,  with  a  certain  grand  air 
which  no  one  could  assume  to  better  effect  than 
himself.  "  I  am  afraid,  alas,  that  I  cannot  claim 
any  merit  in  the  matter!  The  happy  thought  was 
my  wife's  idea  entirely,  though  needless  to  say  how 
I  rejoice  that  it  should  have  proved  so  successful." 

The  smile  on  Mrs.  Lancelot's  face  wavered  and 
drooped,  and  instantly  the  man  was  struck  with  a 
sense  of  remorse  that  went  far  towards  re-establish- 
ing the  momentarily  weakened  thrall.  He  took  both 
the  little  hands  in  their  mouse-grey  suede  gloves, 
and  pressed  them  with  all  the  ardour  of  Indian  days. 

The  words :  "  I  hope  you're  not  too  tired !  Did 
you  have  a  comfortable  journey?  Welcome  to 
Orange  Court ! "  were  spoken  in  the  old  caressing, 
protective  tones. 

And  it  was  Emerald  Fanny  at  her  most  effective 
who  responded :  "  Thank  you,  thank  you,  dear 
Sir  Reginald!  I  am  tired.  Oh,  so,  so  tired!  Every 
step  in  England  is  an  ordeal.  You  will  understand. 
How  kind  you  are!  Will  you  tell  me,  please,  what 
I  ought  to  pay  the  cab?  I  am  so  helpless  in  these 
people's  hands — I  " — the  suffused  eyes  spoke  the 
remainder  of  the  phrase  pathetically — "  I  never  was 
meant  to  battle  with  the  world  alone." 

"  Settle  with  Mrs.  Lancelot's  flyman,  Barker," 
prdered  Sir  Reginald. 


A    WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       171 

He  braced  himself  for  a  second  and  his  glance 
measured  the  small,  slight  figure,  which  seemed  like 
some  frail  aspen  ever  to  quiver  and  flutter  without 
visible  cause.  He  could  not  feel  sure  that  Gertrude 
would  consider  it  correct  for  a  lady  to  travel  with 
so  many  streamers  and  ends  of  ribbon,  such  a  glitter 
of  chains  and  bangles.  Even  to  his  uninitiated  mas- 
culine eye,  these  adornments  ill-matched  the  short 
walking  skirt,  which  displayed  so  generous  a  vision 
of  elaborate  shoes  and  open-work  silk  stockings. 

He  opened  the  door  for  her  to  pass,  saying  gravely 
as  he  did  so: 

"  Gertrude,  here  is  Mrs.  Lancelot — the  kind 
friend  but  for  whose  nursing,  perhaps,  I  might  never 
have  come  back  to  you " 

He  was  impelled  to  this  piece  of  pathos  almost  in 
spite  of  himself.  He  had  been  clinging  to  it  in  his 
thoughts  all  day;  was  it  not  all  he  had  to  justify 
himself  and  the  situation?  He  was  grateful  to  his 
wife  for  the  unerring  precision  with  which  she  took 
up  the  key-note : 

"  How  kind  of  you  to  come  to  us,  Mrs.  Lancelot ! 
I  wanted  to  have  you  here  to  thank  you.  No  letters, 
no  mere  perfunctory  visit  could  have  been  the  same 

thing  to  me "  Lady  Gertrude  dropped  the  hand 

she  had  been  gently  pressing,  and  paused;  she  had 
to  pause  to  avoid  the  deliberate  untruth  as  far  as 
possible.  Then  she  added :  "  I  had  to  thank  you  in 
person  for  taking  my  place  at  my  husband's  side." 

Sir  Reginald  shot  a  sharp  glance  at  her,  but  could 
discover  no  sign  of  sarcasm  upon  her  smooth  face. 


173       DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

Emerald  turned  also  a  wondering  gaze  upon  her 
hostess.  Then  her  large  blue-grey  eyes  gathered 
that  mist  of  unshed  tears  which  came  so  readily  to 
their  assistance;  Gertrude,  subtly  watching  her,  saw 
that  behind  the  appealing  moisture,  the  pupils  of 
those  eyes  remained  hard  and  contracted.  There 
came  to  her  a  sudden  realisation  that  she  had  under- 
estimated her  rival,  and  a  small  chill  of  mingled  repul- 
sion and  doubt  crept  over  her. 

"  Indeed,"  said  the  little  widow,  "  he  was  very, 

very  ill "  the  tears  welled  to  the  very  edge  of 

her  curling  black  lashes,  and  miraculously  subsided 
again.  But  they  seemed  to  fall  drop  by  drop  into 
the  thrill  of  her  voice.  "  If  he  had  not  been  what 
he  is  I  do  not  think  we  could  have  pulled  him 
through.  Oh,  Lady  Gertrude,  you  cannot  think 
how  patient  he  was — how  courageous." 

Lady  Gertrude  had  a  very  clear  memory  of  the 
several  ailments  through  which  she  herself  had  nursed 
Sir  Reginald.  But  she  did  not  recollect  having  been 
struck  with  either  of  the  qualities  which  thus  moved 
Mrs.  Lancelot's  admiration.  Dashing  soldier  he 
might  be;  yet  Sir  Reginald  was  of  the  type  of  mas- 
culine patient  who  meets  each  illness  with  a  firm 
conviction  that  it  will  be  his  last,  and  each  recovery 
with  an  irritability  which  almost  makes  the  most 
anxious  attendant  regret  the  days  of  his  prostration. 

"  I  am  sure  of  one  thing,"  said  Gertrude  then,  with 
a  smile,  "  that  he  had  a  very  efficient  nurse.  Will 
you  sit  there?  Do  you  like  your  tea  strong?  " 

Sir  Reginald,  who  had  begun  to  feel  blushingly 


A    WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       173 

uncomfortable  to  hear  himself  praised,  by  such  lips 
to  such  ears,  could  not  but  deem  that  Gertrude  was 
dismissing  the  subject  perfunctorily,  not  to  say 
heartlessly.  And  that  Mrs.  Lancelot  had  received 
the  same  impression  was  conveyed  by  the  gaze  of 
deep  sympathy  which  she  turned  upon  him.  The 
sense  of  being  understood,  appreciated  at  his  real 
value,  stole  warmly  back  into  his  soul,  together  with 
the  realisation  that  it  had  been  markedly  wanting 
to  him  during  the  last  thirty-six  hours. 

"  Have  a  cake,  little  madame,"  he  murmured,  bend- 
ing over  her. 

She  flashed  him  another  look  at  that.  He  hoped 
Gertrude  did  not  see  it. 


There  ensued  a  half-hour  which,  to  Sir  Reginald's 
sensitive  epidermis,  was,  perhaps,  the  most  uncom- 
fortable he  had  yet  spent.  His  feelings  seemed  to 
swing  from  one  extreme  of  the  pendulum  to  the 
other.  There  were  moments  when  his  little  friend 
positively  exasperated  him ;  she  was  too  personal, 
too  persistently  effusive.  Ever  and  anon,  against 
his  wife's  cool,  clear  utterances,  the  widow's  remarks 
sounded  silly,  nay,  almost  "  second-rate."  On  the 
other  hand,  as  he  told  himself  bitterly,  Mrs.  Lance- 
lot had  proved  that  she  had  a  heart;  and  this  heart 
he  knew  was  filled  with  true  affection  for  himself. 
What  were  mere  details  of  manner,  paltry  artificial- 
ities ;  what  was  a  small  want  of  savoir  faire,  com- 
pared to  the  beauty  of  a  really  deep,  womanly 


174?        DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

nature?  Once  or  twice,  indeed,  when  Emerald  Fanny 
had  put  her  little  patent-leather  shoe  into  it  so  obvi- 
ously that  he  winced,  it  struck  him  that  Gertrude 
had  delicately  lured  her  to  the  false  step.  Yet  a 
glance  at  his  wife's  pure  face  would  drive  the  thought 
from  him,  and  the  next  instant  it  would  be  borne 
in  upon  him  that  Gertrude's  charity  was  actually 
covering  the  bevue. 

"  Oh,  what  a  heavenly  garden !  "  gushed  Emerald, 
as,  at  the  conclusion  of  the  trying  half-hour,  she 
stood  in  the  window  bow,  looking  out  upon  the 
greensward  where  the  deepening  light  lay  golden. 
"  What  roses !  They  seem  to  run  right  into  the 
wood.  I  suppose  this  is  your  special  garden,  Lady 
Gertrude  r  It  looks  like  you — what  taste !  what  per- 
fection! It  does  seem  a  pity  to  remain  indoors  on 
such  a  day." 

The  honeyed  compliment  was  for  the  hostess,  the 
suggestion  for  her  host — each  accompanied  by  a 
suitable  glance.  It  was  Lady  Gertrude  who  an- 
swered both. 

"  Yes,  my  roses  are  beautiful. — Would  you  like 
to  take  a  turn  in  the  garden?  I  am  sure  Reginald 
will  be  charmed  to  show  you  round." 

What  could  Reginald  do  ?  He  would  be  charmed, 
of  course.  The  long  French  window  was  open. 
Their  way  lay  before  them.  Emerald  Fanny  halted 
and  looked  back  on  an  inconceivable  impulse: 

"  Don't  you  think  we  ought  to  ask  your  wife  to 
come  too?  Won't  you  come  with  us,  dear  Lady 
Gertrude?" 


A    WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       17S 

There  was  an  unconscious  note  of  patronage  in 
the  honeyed  voice ;  an  air  of  virtuous  tact  about  the 
whole  pretty  personality.  Sir  Reginald  felt  the  hot 
blood  creeping  to  his  forehead. 

"  Thank  you,  I  have  some  letters  to  write,"  said 
Lady  Gertrude. 

She  stood  framed  in  the  window,  looking  out  on 
them,  a  slight  smile  on  her  lips.  The  husband  car- 
ried the  memory  of  that  smile  uneasily  with  him. 
The  wheels  were  going  round  at  an  extraordinary 
pace,  and  Gertrude  had  not  only  refrained  to  put 
down  the  brake,  she  was  actually  oiling  the  gear 
again. 

"  Oh,  how  exquisite !  "  said  Emerald  Fanny.  She 
bent  her  delicate  profile  over  a  drooping  rose.  The 
General  roused  himself  from  his  abstraction  to  pre- 
sent it  to  her — gallantly.  She  took  it  with  fervour, 
held  it  against  her  cheek,  her  lips,  and  then  glanced 
up  at  him. 

"  Ideale!  "  said  he. 

"Oh,  flatterer!"  said  she. 

"  'Tis  the  name  of  the  rose,  belle  dame"  he  re- 
sponded with  a  gentle  laugh. 

"  Oh,"  she  pouted  archly,  "  I  must  not  take  it 
for  myself,  then !  " 

"  Nay  " — he  caressed  her  with  his  eyes — "  the  de- 
duction is  wrong." 

They  were  back  on  their  old  footing;  and  how 
pleasant  it  was!  He  was  finding  himself  again: 
the  man  of  the  world,  the  charmer,  the  conqueror. 

"  Oh ! "  cried  Emerald  again,  as  a  turn  of  the 


176        DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

path  brought  them  in  view  of  the  grass  walk  running 
into   the   woods,   the   path  that   Gertrude   and   the 
young   Guardsman   had   trod   that   same    morning, 
"  what  a  vista — what  a  lovely,  lonely  way !  " 
"  Shall  we  go  down  it?  "  said  Sir  Reginald. 

Evening  shades  were  gathering  under  the  arch  of 
the  trees ;  but  where  the  slanting  sunrays  struck 
across  the  road  it  glowed  with  a  thousand  subtle 
shades  of  fire  from  the  amber  and  russet  of  last 
year's  leaf  to  the  ruby  and  emerald  of  scarlet-tipped 
moss  and  pushing  fern-croziers  among  the  fronds. 
Somewhere  a  late  thrush  was  singing.  The  woods 
gave  out  many  savours. 

They  went  at  first  in  silence;  but  presently  Mrs. 
Lancelot,  with  a  pathetic  sigh,  declared  that  she  was 
tired  and  sat  herself  on  the  moss,  between  the  branch- 
ing roots  of  a  century-old  beech  tree.  Then  she 
took  off  her  hat,  and  the  sunray  which  caught  her 
hair  made  it  shine  like  a  saint's  aureole.  It  may 
have  been  the  wrong  yellow,  but  in  Sir  Reginald's 
eyes  it  was  a  wonderful  and  beautiful  hue ;  and  there 
could  be  no  question  of  its  luxuriance.  It  grew  away 
from  her  pretty  forehead  in  a  rich  wave ;  then  seemed 
to  break  into  irrepressible  twists  and  tendrils  of  its 
own  vitality.  She  had  a  face  of  cameo  delicacy. 
When  it  was  in  repose  there  was  something  classic 
about  its  lines ;  but  to  those  who  did  not  like  her, 
there  was  something  mean  in  the  smile,  which  dis- 
played almost  too  regular  and  too  white  teeth. 

Sir   Reginald  was    not    of  those   who    could   see 


anything  mean  in  Mrs.  Lancelot.  Leaning  against 
the  great  tree  trunk,  and  looking  down  at  her,  he 
found  nothing  amiss,  but  everything  that  pleased 
him,  in  the  countenance  lifted  towards  him.  In  the 
eyes  fixed  upon  his  own  with  a  profound  and  com- 
forting expression  he  read  (he  flattered  himself  he 
was  not  a  vain  man)  something  that  was  little 
short  of  adoration. 

It  was  not  very  often  that  he  was  allowed  to 
plunge  his  own  gaze  into  them  like  this.  Emerald 
Fanny  had  too  much  the  instinct  of  her  vocation  to 
be  lavish  of  such  favours — but  when  the  moment 
struck  for  giving  all  that  virtue  could  relinquish, 
freely  she  gave.  Once  more  the  man  tasted  the  ex- 
quisite sensation  of  being  appreciated.  It  was  so 
grateful  after  his  recent  experiences  that  he  felt 
moved  with  a  great  tenderness  towards  his  com- 
panion, with  a  great  pity  for  himself — for  both.  In 
all  his  twenty  "years  of  marriage  he  had  never  seen 
anything  in  his  wife's  eyes  approaching  to  such  a 
look.  He  knew  that  he  was  never  destined  to  see  it. 

Emerald  was  the  first  to  break  the  silence : 

"  How  beautiful  your  wife  is !  " 

The  sigh  with  which  she  spoke,  the  mist  that 
came  over  her  glance,  gave  (he  thought)  an  infinite 
pathos  to  her  resigned  and  generous  testimony. 
What  a  sweet  little  soul  it  was,  and  how  guileless ! 
It  was  as  if  she  were  asking :  "  What  chance  have  I 
against  such  a  rival?"  He  had  no  reply  for  her; 
and  the  voice,  with  its  plaintive  thrill,  proceeded: 

"  Oh,  how  I  have  thought  of  you  since  we  last 


178        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

met!  All  these  long,  lonely  hours  in  London,  pic- 
turing to  myself  your  home-coming.  Oh,  what  a 
home-coming  that  must  have  been!  the  joy  of  your 
happy  wife  and  child  .  .  . ! " 

The  tears  welled,  but  the  brave  eyes  did  not  waver 
in  their  upward  glance  with  its  innocent  revelation ; 
and  the  brave  lips  still  tried  to  smile  in  spite  of  their 
trembling. 

"  Aye,"  said  Sir  Reginald,  stung  by  the  ever- 
pressing  sense  of  contrast.  "  That  was  a  home- 
coming !  " 

She  was  quick  to  seize  the  bitter  inflection  of  his 
voice. 

"  How  ?  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Oh,  my  dear,  dear 
friend,  why  this  sad  look?  " 

His  expression,  at  the  moment,  was  what  the 
youngest  of  his  aides-de-camp  used  to  describe  as 
"  deuced  squally."  But  Emerald  Fanny  had  a  more 
poetic  vocabularly;  she  proceeded: 

"  I  have  no  right  to  ask.     Forgive  me." 

The  tell-tale  eyes  were  dropped;  then,  just  low 
enough  not  to  be  inaudible,  she  added: 

"  I  must  try  and  forget  our  old  days  of  unreserved 
confidence — I  must  school  myself." 

And  here  one  tear  brimmed  and  rolled  down  her 
cheek;  apparently  much  to  her  confusion,  for  she 
turned  away  her  head,  too  late,  and  began  nervously 
to  pluck  at  the  moss  tufts  within  reach.  Sir  Regi- 
nald let  himself  down  slowly  beside  her  and  took  the 
little  ungloved  fingers  a  moment  into  his;  then  he 
said  sombrely: 


A    WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       179 

"  Forget  nothing — why  should  there  cease  to  be 
confidence  between  us?  I  hope  you  will  always  open 

your  heart  to  me  as  to  a  friend.  As  for  myself " 

He  paused  tragically. 

"  As  for  yourself ?  " 

She  palpitated,  turning  her  face  with  its  tear 
mark  full  upon  him. — What  did  it  matter,  what 
did  anything  about  her  matter?  He  was  un- 
happy. 

"  I  have  never  wanted  a  friend  more. — Why 
should  I  conceal  it  from  you?  ...  I  will  de- 
scribe to  you  what  my  home-coming  has  been.  You 
were  witness  of  my  landing  in  England.  You  won- 
dered then  that  no  one  should  have  met  me,  after 
three  years.  You  suggested  that  my  wife  or  my 
daughter  must  be  ill.  You  would  not  credit  me 
when  I  answered  you  that  my  wife  has  an  objection 
to  such  demonstrations  of  feeling;  that  I  expected 
nothing  less — nothing  more.  At  Windsor  station, 
again,  there  is  no  face  I  know  on  the  platform,  no 
smile  to  greet  me  as  the  train  stops.  .  .  ." 

"  Oh,  surely,  surely "  The  interpolation 

came  with  a  little  cry  as  if  the  widow's  heart  were 
wrung  with  pain. 

"  Not  even  a  carriage,  not  even  a  servant  to  meet 

me "  The  more  he  thought  over  it,  the  more  it 

was  borne  in  upon  him  that — although  it  was  true 
he  had  not  mentioned  the  hour  of  his  intended  arrival 
— carriage  or  motor  should  have  been  sent  to  await 
him  at  the  station ;  that  it  would  not  have  been  any- 
thing out  of  the  way  if  wife  and  child  had  conse- 


180        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

crated  to  him  a  few  hours  of  affectionate  expectancy 
on  Windsor  platform. 

"  I  had  to  take  a  fly " 

"  Oh— no— no " 

"  A  fly,  with  a  lame  horse." 

"Oh,  Sir  Reginald !" 

"  No  one  on  the  doorsteps,  no  one  in  the  hall !  " 

"  Don't,  dear  friend !  " 

"  I  find  my  wife  in  the  drawing-room  with  a  room- 
ful of  people — my  daughter  gone  out  motoring." 

"  Oh,  oh,  oh !  "  moaned  Emerald. 

She  flung  out  her  hands  to  him,  only  to  draw  them 
back  before  he  had  time  to  seize  them,  and  to  cover 
her  face.  He  had  to  bend  forward  to  catch  the 
words  that  dropped  from  behind  the  screen: 

"  And  I,  thinking  of  you,  my  hero  come  back  to 
his  own,  thinking  of  the  rapture  and  joy  of  your 
dear    ones     .     .     .     contrasting    my    fate 
lonely,       lonely      widow     .     .     .     happy,       happy 
wife     .     .     .!" 

Emotion  seemed  to  suffocate  her.  Then,  on  a 
fresh  pulse  of  feeling,  her  hands  were  stretched  to 
him  again  and  not  withdrawn.  A  face  of  quivering 
sympathy  and  tenderness  was  displayed  to  his  view. 

"  So  we  were  both  sad,  both  lonely,  after 
all  .  .  .!" 

Sir  Reginald's  fingers  closed  upon  hers  with  al- 
most convulsive  pressure. 

"  Mon  preux"  she  breathed. 

He  could  not  trust  himself  to  speak ;  but  bending, 
kissed  the  hands  he  held. 


A    WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       181 

"  Fate,  fate " 

As  the  mysterious  words  fell  from  Emerald 
Fanny's  lips,  she  glanced  upwards  with  a  sibylline 
air.  She  added  nothing  to  explain  her  thought ;  but 
Sir  Reginald  understood. 

Fate,  separating  the  affinities !  Two  hearts,  two 
souls  in  a  harmony  so  complete  and  yet  divided! — 
It  was  the  first  time  that  a  thought  so  distinctly  sub- 
versive of  conjugal  loyalty  had  ever  been  enter- 
tained by  him.  But  there  are  stages  of  life  when 
one's  very  sins  are  another's  guilt.  Ah,  if  Gertrude 
had  only  shown  him  one  tithe  of  this  affection,  this 
responsiveness ! 

Mrs.  Lancelot  drew  her  hands  away  with  a  linger- 
ing touch  that  was  almost  a  caress.  Then,  in  silence, 
she  rose  to  her  feet ;  and,  when  he  stood  beside  her 
likewise,  faced  him  solemnly.  She  had  not  lost  her 
inspired  look. 

"  Listen,"  she  said,  "  friend,  dear,  dear  friend 
I  may  call  you  so,  for  indeed  you  have  been 
that  to  me  .  .  .  when  first  you  came  into  my 
life  (I  mean,  really  into  my  life — for  in  the  begin- 
ning I  only  saw  you  and  looked 'up  to  you  from 
afar  as  it  were,  without  daring  to  dream  we  should 
be  so  much  to  each  other)  " — the  tone  and  the  glance 
that  accompanied  these  words  gave  them  almost  a 
saintly  character — "  when  your  friendship  came  to 
me  in  my  time  of  desolation,  I  told  myself  that  he 
had  sent  it  me,  that  it  was  his  wish — to  keep  me 
from  despair." 

Sir  Reginald  had  come  rather  to  dread  the  trem- 


182        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

bling  note  and  the  tearful  eye  that  marked  any  ref- 
erence to  the  late  Mr.  Lancelot.  They  never  failed 
to  stir  him,  first  with  a  particular  sense  of  discom- 
fort and  then  with  a  rush  of  pity. 

"  Now,"  proceeded  the  widow  with  a  voice  of  pierc- 
ing pathos,  "  to-day,  for  the  first  time,  I  have  begun 
to  understand  that  I,  too,  may  perhaps  have  been 
sent  to  you,  to  be,  in  my  weak  way,  your  comfort. 
I  cannot  do  much,  but  I  can  love " 

Her  accents  broke  on  that;  she  caught  herself  up 
and  went  on,  so  rapidly  as  to  preclude  interrup- 
tion: 

"  No,  no,  you  will  not  misunderstand,  I  can  say 
it.  My  deep,  deep  affection  for  you  is  that  of  a 
grateful,  devoted  .  .  .  friend. — Oh,  if  that  can 

help  you "  she  swayed  back  against  the  tree 

trunk,  and  added:  "  in  your  loneliness,  in  the  bitter- 
ness of  life !  Life  is  very,  very  bitter." 

She  closed  her  eyes.  Her  face  against  the  rough 
background  looked  strangely  white,  strangely 
ethereal.  Suddenly  Sir  Reginald  flung  an  arm 
about  her  and  caught  her  to  him,  almost  roughly. 
Afterwards  he  was  quite  sure  that  the  action  had 
been  prompted  by  the  fear  that  she  was  going  to 
faint;  it  was  less  easy  to  explain  why  the  embrace 
should  have  been  followed  by  an  equally  passionate 
kiss.  But  to  the  pure  all  things  are  pure.  With 
closed  eyes  Emerald  Fanny  chastely  received  the 
touch  of  his  lips  upon  her  forehead: 

"  My  brother  and  my  friend !  " 

Before  she  had  thus  apostrophised  him,  Sir  Regi- 


nald's  arms  had  already  fallen  from  her.  His  mad- 
ness had  been  as  brief  as  it  was  overpowering.  He 
had  recognised  the  enormity  of  his  deed.  True, 
he  had  held  Emerald  Fanny  in  his  arms  before,  but 
that  had  been  in  such  widely  different  circumstances 
that  it  had  scarcely  evoked  a  prick  of  remorse,  either 
at  the  time  or  afterwards.  A  kiss,  here  and  there, 
to  a  pretty  little  woman,  in  moments  of  gratitude 
or  attempted  consolation — as  lightly  taken  as  given 
— it  was  merest  peccadillo!  But  this  outburst  of 
passion  for  his  and  his  wife's  guest  was  a  violation 
of  the  sanctity  of  home;  the  betrayal  of  his  wife's 
confidence;  a  breach  of  honour,  as  husband,  as 
host. 

As  the  blood  ebbed  from  his  brain,  the  cold  reality 
of  his  irrevocable  deed  faced  him  in  all  its  horror, 
Emerald's  words  fell  upon  his  ear.  It  was  as  the 
message  of  a  rescuing  angel 

"  My  brother  and  my  friend !  " 

A  voiceless  cry  rang  from  the  depths  of  his  heart : 
"  Thank  God  for  good  women ! "  Only  a  good 
woman  could  have  thus  saved  him  from  his  own  folly. 
He  felt  as  if  he  could  have  fallen  on  his  knees  before 
her. 

He  could  not  trust  himself  to  speak;  but  took 
her  hand,  pressed  it  gently  and  dropped  it;  and 
silently,  by  tacit  consent,  they  began  to  retrace  their 
steps. 

There  was  a  sunset  of  unwonted  gorgeousness ; 
and  the  aureole  round  Emerald's  still  uncovered  head 


184        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

shone  with  most  appropriate  radiance  as  she  went 
along  by  his  side.  He  looked  down  on  her  with  a 
glance  almost  of  reverence. 

When  they  had  reached  the  verge  of  the  garden, 
she  lifted  her  tender  accents  again: 

"  Then  I  may  call  myself  your  little  sister?  " 

Sir  Reginald  winced.  Here  was  a  want  of  tact, 
a  false  note.  There  are  situations  too  delicate  to  be 
insisted  upon.  They  were  within  sight  of  the  house. 
Any  further  taking  of  hands,  or  chaste  fraternal 
demonstrations,  were  out  of  the  question.  He  could 
not  find  within  himself  any  brotherly  sentiment  with 
which  to  respond. 

There  ensued  an  awkward  pause ;  then  the  General 
said  with  an  effort  that  gave  a  want  of  assurance 
to  his  voice: 

"  Whatever  you  are  to  me,  I  am  sure  it  will  be 
for  good." 

Emerald  Fanny  went  up  to  her  room  still  wearing 
about  her  an  atmosphere  of  pensive  holiness.  But, 
within  the  safety  of  closed  doors,  she  allowed  a  dif- 
ferent mood  to  find  expression.  She  approached  the 
mirror  and  surveyed  herself  with  a  satisfied  smile, 
succeeded  by  a  little  laugh. 

"  What    a    dear    old    foozle ! "    she    murmured. 

Surely  she  could  not  be  alluding  to  her  preux 
chevalier! 

Presently  she  began  to  hum  a  little  song,  the 
waltz  tune  from  "  The  Merry  Widow."  She  even 
made  two  or  three  little  dancing  steps  as  she  shook 


A    WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       185 

off  her  skirt.     Her  hour  in  the  forest  had  been  a  com- 
plete success. 

But  Sir  Reginald,  pacing  the  library,  felt  the 
memory  of  it  bite  into  his  conscience  with  a  stealthy 
tooth. 


THAT  night,  before  dinner,  Norah  first  beheld  the 
charming  Mrs.  Lancelot.  And  she  was  much  im- 
pressed. 

Emerald  Fanny  was  indeed  looking  her  best  in  a 
garment  which  combined  with  great  effect  a  Medici 
collar,  Greek  drapery  and  a  mediaeval  girdle.  Her 
small  classical  head  was  crowned  with  a  close  wreath 
of  laurel;  and  the  misty  purples,  the  floating  wing- 
like  draperies,  the  heavy  and  barbaric  jewelling  that 
clasped  the  little  waist  were  indeed  becoming  enough 
in  spite  of  incongruity.  A  child's  fancy  is  easily 
captured  by  the  charm  of  novelty,  and  Norah  was 
still  a  child.  She  had  never  seen  anyone  like  Emer- 
ald ;  no  one  had  ever  spoken  to  her,  or  looked  at  her, 
as  Emerald  did.  The  visitor  was  alone  in  the  draw- 
ing-room when  Norah  entered,  both  having  restlessly 
anticipated  the  hour,  and  for  similar  reasons.  But 
neither  the  General  nor  Enniscorthy  had  put  in  their 
appearance. 

"  I  am  sure  you  are  Norah,"  cried  Mrs.  Lancelot, 
rising,  both  hands  outstretched ;  "  the  little  Norah 
I  have  heard  so  much  about — tall,  wonderful 
Norah!" 

The  widow's  lovely  eyes — she  had  indeed  to  gaze 
upwards — surveyed,  caressed,  admired,  misted.  A 
second,  Norah's  hands  rebelled  against  the  affection- 

186 


A     WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       187 

ate  pressure ;  but  the  next  she  had  fallen  under  the 
sway  of  that  look  and  smile. 

"  Is  it  not  kind  of  your  dear  mother  to  have  me 
here? "  pursued  the  charmer,  drawing  the  girl 
down  beside  her.  "  You  cannot  think  what  it  means 

to  me.  I  don't  know  if  you  have  heard " 

Emerald  broke  off  with  her  inimitable  pathos;  the 
tears  rose  and  were  blinked  away.  "  I  have  become 
a  very  lonely  woman.  I  am  trying  to  take  up  my 
life  again,  because  it  was  his  wish,  almost  his  last 
wish." 

There  was  a  pause  fraught  with  emotion.  Norah's 
frank  gaze  became  clouded  with  sympathetic  emo- 
tion ;  perceiving  which  the  other  cried  impulsively, 
with  that  thrilling  sweetness  of  tone  which  bewitched 
the  daughter's  ears  as  it  had  bewitched  the  father: 

"  Oh,  I  did  not  mean  to  sadden  you  with  my  sor- 
row— you  radiant  thing,  made  for  happiness !  Sir 
Reginald — he  was  my  dear  husband's  friend — what 
he  has  been  to  me !  I  have  been  trying  to  tell  your 
mother,  in  vain ;  I  never  can  speak  of  what  lies  deep- 
est. I  wonder "  she  broke  off,  her  eyes  were 

fixed  on  the  girl's  face  with  eloquent  eagerness. 

"What?" 

The  query,  Norah  felt,  rang  out  abrupt,  awk- 
ward, well-nigh  brutal,  but  she  was  really  thrilling 
with  unwonted  emotion: 

"  By-and-bye,  when  we  know  each  other  better, 
perhaps  you  will  let  me  be  your  friend?  " 

One  would  have  to  be  oneself  a  schoolgirl,  more 
isolated  than  most  by  maternal  watchfulness  even 


188        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

from  her  own  kin,  to  realise  to  the  full  the  flattery 
of  such  an  appeal  from  a  young  and  lovely  woman. 

"  Indeed — indeed !  "  cried  Norah,  and,  shy  of  fur- 
ther words,  stretched  out  her  hand.  This  was  fondly 
clasped,  and  then  on  what  seemed  to  be  a  mutual  im- 
pulse, the  two  kissed  each  other. 

Here  it  was  that  Lady  Gertrude  entered  upon 
them.  Halting  for  a  scarcely  perceptible  moment, 
the  sight  struck  her  with  a  pang,  not  commensurate 
to  its  importance.  Her  Norah  in  the  arms  of  the 
little — adventuress !  For  Mrs.  Lancelot  was,  in  her 
hostess's  mind,  nothing  less  or  more.  Her  guarded, 
white-souled  child,  her  virginal  Norah !  The  mother 
had  not  foreseen  such  a  contingency.  Indeed  she  had 
reckoned  on  the  girl's  frank  nature  revolting,  with 
every  instinct  of  innate  purity,  innate  honesty,  fas- 
tidiousness and  high  breeding,  from  such  a  being. 
Rather,  what  she  had  anticipated  was  considerable 
trouble  in  inducing  the  madcap  to  fitting  civility 
towards  their  visitor. 

"  We  are  friends  already,  you  see,"  cooed  Emer- 
ald, retaining  her  clasp  of  the  slim,  cold  hand  that 
once  again  twitched  in  hers. 

Norah  glanced  up  at  her  mother,  flushing  and  smil- 
ing. 

"  Heaven  be  good  to  me,"  thought  the  mother ; 
"  the  poor  child  is  proud  of  the  distinction !  " — "  So 
I  see,"  she  said  aloud,  feeling  how  stiff  was  the  smile 
on  her  own  lips. 

Suddenly  she  became  aware  that  her  husband  was 
standing  at  her  elbow.  Their  glances  met.  There 


A    WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       189 

was  unmistakable  trouble,  even  displeasure,  in  his 
eye;  and  for  the  first  time  since  his  return  she  felt 
they  were  in  sympathy.  A  small  sensation  of  com- 
fort crept  into  her  sore  heart. 

Looking  extraordinarily  fresh  and  ciean,  Ennis- 
corthy  came  into  the  room.  Norah  sprang  to  her 
feet,  and  the  quiver  of  impatience  with  which  she 
awaited  his  greeting  was  watched  by  her  mother  with 
a  mixture  of  amusement  and  sadness.  Enniscorthy 
went  through  his  preliminary  courtesies  with  great 
deliberation ;  addressed  his  uncle  with  a  perfect  blend- 
ing of  respect  and  boyish  simplicity;  bowed  deeply 
to  Mrs.  Lancelot,  ignoring  the  faint  gesture  of  her 
hand,  and  then  turned  to  his  cousin: 

"Hallo,  Norah!" 

"  Hallo,  Enn !     You're  a  nice  kind  of  a  beast !  " 

"What's  up  now?" 

"  Fancy  your  coming  here  this  morning  and  never 
asking  for  me !  Yes !  And  bringing  roses  to  Frau- 
lein ! "  The  youthful  emphasis  she  had  not  yet 
learned  to  repress  rang  shrilly.  "  I  say,  though, 
perhaps  you  did  mean  them  for  me,  and  were  afraid 
of  mamma  ?  " 

Anticipated  triumph  began  to  sparkle  in  her  eye; 
but  Enniscorthy  answered  her  coolly. 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it.  Didn't  think  you  deserved 
them." 

The  good-humoured  banter  in  his  voice  fell  like  the 
knell  of  all  her  hopes  on  Lady  Gertrude's  ear. 

Emerald,  who  had  been  contemplating  the  young 
Guardsman  through  half-closed  lids,  at  last  by  her 


190       DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

own  intentness  of  gaze  attracted  his.  An  expres- 
sion of  surprise,  followed  by  instant  antagonism, 
came  into  the  youth's  well-opened  grey  eyes.  She 
dropped  her  glance,  and  when  she  next  raised  it  her 
whole  countenance  had  assumed  a  caressing,  mater- 
nal expression. 

It  was  in  this  role  that  she  swept  in  to  dinner  on 
Sir  Reginald's  arm.  Gertrude,  following  under  the 
escort  of  Enniscorthy,  heard  the  dulcet  notes: 

"  What  a  beautiful  creature  your  daughter  is, 
and  how  like  you !  " 

Then  there  was  a  murmur,  meant  for  but  one  lis- 
tener; and  the  effective,  clear,  sweetness  of  accents 
once  again: 

"  What  a  pretty  pair  they  make !  " 

Almost  without  looking  Gertrude  was  aware  of  the 
set  young  profile  at  her  side  and,  with  every  mother- 
instinct  alert,  of  Norah's  joyous  flush  behind  her. 

Sir  Reginald,  two  or  three  times  during  the  course 
of  the  meal,  found  himself  contrasting  it  irritably 
with  the  pleasant  dinner-hour  of  the  previous  night. 
Emerald,  perceiving  that  his  mood  was  for  silence 
and  dejection,  allowed  a  gentle  melancholy  to  take 
possession  of  her  also,  from  which  she  only  roused 
herself  to  address  Norah  with  a  fond  indulgence,  a 
kind  of  possessive  admiration,  which  now  exas- 
perated, now  moved  Lady  Gertrude  to  secret 
mirth. 

Enniscorthy  was  never  much  of  a  talker  and  Ger- 
trude herself  was  the  least  conversational  of  women. 


But  Norah,  scarlet-cheeked  and  bright-eyed,  excited 
even  beyond  her  usual  impulsive  wont,  kept  up  an 
incessant  ^chatter ;  the  new  friend — whose  murmurs : 
"  Isn't  she  quaint  ?  Isn't  she  too  sweet  ?  "  addressed 
alternately  to  the  father  on  the  one  side,  to  the  lover 
on  the  other — proving,  it  seemed,  irresistible  stimu- 
lation. 

As  they  were  leaving  the  dining-room  and  Ger- 
trude stood  aside  to  allow  her  guest  to  precede  her, 
the  latter  held  out  her  hand.  Norah  flew  to  the  lure ; 
and,  embracing  each  other  like  Helen  and  Hermia, 
the  two  passed  out.  Gertrude,  unable  to  resist  glanc- 
ing back  at  the  two  men,  saw  much  the  same  look  of 
annoyed  surprise  on  Enniscorthy's  face  that  the 
widow  herself  had  already  caught  there.  Sir  Regi- 
nald avoided  meeting  his  wife's  eye ;  he  was  shifting 
one  of  the  cut-glass  decanters  with  an  air  of  frown- 
ing absorption. 

There  was  a  mixture  of  uneasiness  and  satisfac- 
tion in  Lady  Gertrude's  mind,  as  she  followed  on 
into  the  drawing-room.  She  divined  that  her  husband 
disliked  the  sudden  affection  which  had  sprung  up 
between  his  daughter  and  his  Indian  charmer. 

Indeed,  the  mood  of  enthusiasm  in  which  Sir  Regi- 
nald had  mentally  knelt  before  his  Emerald's  shrine, 
hymning  her  as  a  good  woman,  had  momentarily 
subsided.  He  was  conscious  of  having  made  a  "  con- 
founded fool "  of  himself ;  and  he  could  find  abso- 
lutely no  consolation  in  thinking  of  the  occasion  of 
that  folly  as  his  little  sister.  The  sight  of  his  daugh- 
ter embracing  her  whom  he  had  himself  so  recently 


192        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

enfolded  caused  him  a  physically  unpleasant  sensa- 
tion. 

Enniscorthy  had  remembered  his  uncle  as  the  most 
genial  and  charming  of  men ;  he  found  himself  gaz- 
ing at  him  now  and  again  as  if  he  hardly  recognised 
him  in  the  sombre,  monosyllabic  host.  He  had  gath- 
ered that  the  astounding  Mrs.  Lancelot  was  a  friend 
of  the  General's ;  it  never  dawned  upon  him,  never- 
theless, to  connect  obvious  cause  and  effect.  In- 
deed, to  his  healthy  mind,  the  situation  would  have 
been  inconceivable. 


VI 

"  HONEY,"  said  Coralie  to  her  husband  on  the  day 
week  of  Mrs.  Lancelot's  arrival  at  Orange  Court — 
a  Tuesday  it  was — "  Honey,  I've  just  had  a  letter 
from  Aunt  G.,  and  she  wants  us  to  go  down  to  her 
for  a  visit — to-day.  At  least  she  wants  me,"  said 
Coralie,  arching  her  lip,  "  and  I  rather  think  I  shall 
want  you." 

"  Does  that  mean  I've  got  to  go  ?  "  said  Ernest, 
with  a  lugubrious  smile. 

"  Well,  what's  your  opinion  ?  "  cooed  his  wife. 

The  soldier  gave  a  sigh;  but  Coralie  was  briskly 
stimulated. 

"  Aunt  G.  says,"  she  pursued,  turning  over  the 
sheet  with  its  characteristic  rather  small,  firm  writ- 
ing, "  that  she  wants  me  to  be  with  Norah,  who  has 
taken  for  Mrs.  Lancelot  an  odd  craze  which  is  im- 
proving neither  to  her  manners  nor  her  morals.  My ! 
I  did  not  think  Norah  would  be  such  a  goose.  Fancy 
anyone  except  an  idiot,  or  a  man,"  she  flicked  two  im- 
pertinent little  fingers  under  her  husband's  nose, 
"  taking  a  craze  for  Emerald  Fanny !  " 

"  Aunt  Gertrude  ought  never  to  have  brought 
them  together,"  growled  Captain  Jamieson. 

"  The  General  will  be  going  to  town  on  business 
to-day  and  will  fetch  us  in  the  big  motor  after  lunch. 
Shall  I  'phone  that  we're  coming?  " 

193 


194        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

"Oh,  what's  the  good  of  asking  me?  You'll  do 
just  what  you  like  as  usual,"  responded  the  hus- 
band. 

Coralie  met  the  glance  which  accompanied  these 
words,  and  blinked  back  at  him  in  thorough  under- 
standing. 

"  You  break  it  to  momma,  then,"  she  mocked  him 
over  her  shoulder  as  she  skipped  towards  the  door. 
All  at  once,  however,  she  paused  and  lifted  a  taper 
finger  to  her  lip.  Her  eye  became  fixed.  "  Beware 
of  Tuesdays  and  wheels,"  she  said  tragically. 

*'  What's  that  ?  "  cried  the  other,  starting. 

"  Tuesdays  and  wheels !  It  is  the  wizard's  warn- 
ing. Mr.  Scuro's  spirit  message.  Chiaro  Scuro, 
Ernest,  where  I  went  with  Aunt  Jane !  Oh,  do  wake 
up,  inside  that  old  thick  head  of  yours !  Didn't  I 
tell  you  he  said  Tuesdays  and  wheels  would  be  fatal 
to  me?  Well,  to-day's  Tuesday,  and  motors  have 
got  wheels,  haven't  they?  " 

"  Oh,  come,"  said  the  man,  "  you're  not  such  a  lit- 
tle fool  as  to  attach  any  importance  to  such  non- 
sense! That's  only  good  enough  for  Aunt  Jane." 

"  I  don't  attach  any  importance  to  it,  exactly," 
Coralie  undulated,  "  but  I  just  had  thought  I'd 
rather  walk  for  a  few  Tuesdays  to  come." 

"  Then  you  might  be  run  over." 

"  So  I  might.  Well,  Ernest,  we'll  risk  it.  But 
there's  something  redly  curious  about  it  all  the 
time." 

"What?" 

"  The  coincidence." 


A     WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       195 

"  But  there  isn't  any." 

"  You've  no  imagination ;  just  wait  and  see." 

She  closed  the  smoking-room  door,  only  to  pop 
in  the  pretty  darkly-tinted  face,  with  its  aureole  of 
dusky  curls,  once  more. 

"  That  reminds  me :  Jane  goes  on  calling  Uncle 
Challoner  Caractacus,  and  he's  now  making  enquiries 
about  inexpensive  asylums." 

She  gurgled  and  withdrew. 

Sir  Reginald  punctually  arrived  about  three  o'clock 
and  dutifully  seized  the  occasion  to  pay  his  respects 
to  his  mother-in-law. 

Lady  Enniscorthy,  still  a  little  wheezy  from  her 
cold,  received  him  with  a  stately  reserve  that  some- 
what dashed  the  easy  assurance  with  which  he  entered 
upon  her. 

She  sat  well  screened  from  draughts,  very  upright 
in  a  high-backed  chair,  her  little  feet  in  sandal  shoes 
supported  on  a  Louis  XV.  stool.  The  film  of  black 
lace  flung  over  her  grey  hair  testified  to  some  yield- 
ing to  an  invalid  condition,  so  did  the  box  of  loz- 
enges on  the  table  at  her  elbow;  but  woe  betide  the 
rash  being  who  dared  to  allude  to  the  wheeze! 

Lady  Florence  laid  aside  the  Queen,  out  of  which 
she  had  been  reading  to  her  mother,  as  her  brother- 
in-law  was  announced.  Instantly  her  countenance 
assumed  that  expression  of  sad  reproach,  which  even 
the  mention  of  his  name  now  called  forth.  Lady 
Enniscorthy,  however,  turned  perfectly  unmoved 
features  towards  him. 


196        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

"  I  am  glad  to  find  you  down,  my  lady,"  said  he. 
He  rarely  felt  sufficiently  at  his  ease  with  the  Dow- 
ager to  call  her  "  mother,"  and  he  was  fond,  more- 
over, of  the  semi- jocular  paraphrase. 

"  Reginald?  "  said  my  lady,  with  a  severe  note  of 
interrogation  in  her  deep  voice. 

"  Dear  Reginald,"  said  the  widow,  sighing  as  she 
tendered  him  a  smooth  cheek. 

Sir  Reginald,  who  had  deposited  his  filial  salute 
on  a  fold  of  black  lace,  now  touched  his  sister-in- 
law's  virtuous  countenance  with  brotherly  perfunc- 
toriness  and  sat  him  down  between  the  two  ladies 
with  a  smile,  which  he  hoped  did  not  appear  as  sorry 
as  it  felt. 

That  conscience  which  makes  cowards  of  us  all — 
usually  so  well  under  the  genial  officer's  control — 
had  been  positively  rampant  within  him  these  last 
five  days.  Now,  in  the  atmosphere  of  silent  reproba- 
tion that  settled  down  about  him,  it  writhed. 

"  Gertrude  will  be  delighted  to  hear  you  are  so 
much  better " 

He  broke  off.  His  mother-in-law's  glaring  eye, 
and  the  pathos  of  Florence's  sigh  and  downcast  lids, 
pointed  their  sympathy  with  an  ill-treated  wife.  He 
hastily  pursued: 

"  Since  I  was  summoned  up  on  business,  I  thought 
I  would  call  for  the  young  people  and  pay  my  re- 
spects at  the  same  time." 

"  You  were  summoned  to  London — on  business  ?  " 
enquired  Lady  Enniscorthy ;  a  malicious  gleam  came 
into  the  gloom  of  her  glance. 


A    WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       197 

"  Yes,  War  Office,"  said  her  guileless  son-in-law. 

"  The  same  kind  of  business  that  kept  you  from 
going  home  on  the  day  of  your  arrival — may  I 
ask?" 

"  No — no ;  not  precisely." 

"  I  thought  not."  The  old  lady's  fine  lips  parted 
in  a  withering  smile.  "  I  am  surprised  at  your  com- 
ing up,  Reginald." 

"Why?"  cried  he,  this  time  sharply.  And  then, 
under  the  clear  bronze  of  his  skin,  the  blood  raced 
to  the  roots  of  his  hair.  Florence  rattled  the  Queen. 

"  Why  ?  "  echoed  the  Dowager,  with  a  long-drawn 
breath  of  triumph,  which  ended  in  a  wheezing  cough. 
"  Why — in  the  circumstances,  it  shows,  I  consider, 
a  great  devotion  to  duty.  Tearing  yourself  away 
from  your — wife,  your  child,  and " 

She  was  interrupted  by  a  spasm  of  coughing.  Her 
daughter  rose  in  alarm. 

"  Dear  mamma ! — She  must  not  be  allowed  to 
fatigue  herself.  A  little  water,  dear  mamma. — It's 
distinctly  bronchial,"  she  commented  in  an  under- 
tone to  her  brother-in-law. 

Sir  Reginald  had  risen  also. 

"  Sit  down,  Florence,"  gasped  the  old  lady.  Then 
she  glanced  up,  humorously,  in  spite  of  unrelenting 
disfavour,  at  the  tall,  soldierly  figure.  "  I  under- 
stand you  have  a  visitor  down  at  Windsor,"  she  pur- 
sued. 

"  It  was  Gertrude's  wish.  Mrs.  Lancelot's  devoted 
nursing  saved  my  life  in  the  bout  of  fever  I  had  some 
time  ago.  A  touch-and-go  business." 


198        DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

It  was  astonishing  how  this  illness  of  Sir  Regi- 
nald's gained  in  importance  at  every  new  mention. 
Even  in  his  own  mind,  yonder  languid,  not  unpleas- 
ant, time,  when,  his  head  buzzing  with  quinine,  he 
lay  stretched  on  a  couch  in  the  verandah,  or  under 
the  punkah  breeze  in  the  large,  cool,  gloomy  marble 
room — iced  lemonade  at  his  elbow,  and  Emerald 
Fanny's  sympathetic,  pretty  face  within  range  of 
vision — had  begun  to  assume  the  character  of  a 
tragic  struggle  for  life,  abandoned  among  strangers. 

"  I  owe  her  a  very  deep  debt  of  gratitude,"  he 
enunciated  solemnly.  He  could  not  say  this  too 
often  for  his  own  satisfaction.  He  was  occupied  now 
in  paying  his  debt;  and  although  it  was  perfectly 
true  that  he  had  been  summoned  to  the  War  Office, 
Emerald  Fanny  and  his  obligations  towards  her  had, 
nevertheless,  inspired  part  of  his  doings  in  town  that 
morning. 

"  Indeed?  "  commented  Lady  Enniscorthy. 

She  popped  a  lozenge  into  her  mouth,  and  the 
quizzical  look  in  her  eyes  became  more  marked. 

All  at  once  the  General  realised  that  he  had  not 
been  asked  to  resume  his  seat.  It  was  as  good  as  a 
dismissal  to  a  being  of  so  sensitive  a  fibre. 

"  Do  you  think  Ernest  and  Coralie  will  soon  be 
ready  ?  "  he  enquired  stiffly  of  Lady  Florence. 

"  Reginald  is  in  a  hurry,  Florence,"  said  his 
mother-in-law.  "  Good-bye !  "  she  extended  her  little 
hand  with  a  queenlike  gesture. 

And  the  man  knew  better  than  to  attempt  a  more 
affectionate  farewell  than  that  of  ceremoniously 


A    WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       199 

touching  it.  He  made  a  futile  grasp  at  ease  and 
jauntiness  as  he  did  so. 

*'  Au  revoir,  Madame  la  Comtesse!  "  he  said  in  his 
singularly  British  accent. 

"  Good-bye !  "  repeated  Lady  Enniscorthy. 

When  Florence  returned  to  her,  after  the  pa- 
thetic leave-taking  from  her  son,  the  Dowager 
looked  up  from  the  Queen,  of  which  she  had  pos- 
sessed herself. 

"  For  a  clever  man,"  she  said  sententiously,  "  your 
brother-in-law  is  a  considerable  fool,  Florence. 
When  Gertrude  has  cured  him  of  his  widow,  I  hope 
she'll  cure  him  of  his  French !  " 

Sir  Reginald  found  Captain  Jamieson  ready  in  the 
hall — gloomy  as  befitted  the  man  who  is  coerced  into 
going  whither  he  wishes  not. 

"  Gertrude,"  said  Lady  Florence  acidly,  "  seems 
to  think  she  has  the  monopoly  of  maternal  affections. 
I  have  hardly  seen  my  boy." 

Her  brother-in-law  smiled  in  a  far-off  manner. 
Lady  Florence's  boy  was  silent.  He  opposed  silence 
to  most  of  the  irritating  events  of  life  and  found  the 
practice  to  his  advantage. 

Coralie  came  down  upon  the  little  group,  with  a 
soft  flutter  like  a  settling  bird.  She  was  garbed  all 
in  misty  blue.  Her  husband's  heavy  countenance 
relaxed  as  he  saw  her.  He  thought  there  was  noth- 
ing on  earth  fairer  than  that  mischievous  round 
face,  glowing  with  ripe  apricot  bloom  out  of  the  folds 
of  gauze  that  repeated  the  blue  note  of  her  eyes. 


200        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

"Ain't  I  punctual?"  said  the  American,  gaily 
conscious  that  she  had  kept  them  waiting  as  per 
usual.  "  Good-afternoon,  Uncle  Reginald.  It's  a 
reel  treat  to  be  going  to  you  and  Aunt  G.  Good- 
bye, momma.  I  just  peeped  in  on  granma.  She  was 
chewing  a  cough  lozenge,  so  I  waved  ta-ta.  It's 
heartbreaking  to  be  leaving  you  both." 

"  I'm  sure,"  responded  her  mother-in-law's  con- 
tralto, "  that  we  are  quite  as  sorry  to  see  you  go, 
Coralie,  as  you  are  to  leave  us." 

Coralie  pinched  her  husband. 

"  That's  one  for  me !  "  she  whispered. 

Ernest  turned  a  stolid  eye.  He  thought  his  mother 
very  amiable,  himself. 

"  Good-bye,  my  dear  son !  " 

She  folded  him  in  an  embrace  as  clinging  as  if  he 
had  been  starting  back  for  India.  Sir  Regi- 
nald impatiently  preceded  his  guests  towards  the 
car. 

"  Tuesdays  and  wheels,  Tuesdays  and  wheels ! " 
mocked  Coralie  in  dirge-like  tones.  "  You  little 
know,  Uncle  Reginald,  that  you  are  going  to  take 
a  curse  in  your  car." 

Once  more  he  showed  his  teeth  at  her  in  a  per- 
functory smile,  and  climbed  into  his  seat  beside  the 
chauffeur. 

"  Ernest,"  said  Coralie,  under  cover  of  the  first 
hummings,  "  I'm  downright  sorry  for  your  uncle. 
Emerald  Fanny  is  lying  considerable  heavy  on  his 
chest,  or  I'm  much  mistaken." 

In  his  heart  Ernest  ejaculated:     "Oh,  Emerald 


A    WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       201 

Fanny  be  hanged !  "  She  was  considerably  heavy  on 
his  own  chest,  in  a  vicarious  way.  He  hated,  straight- 
forward as  he  was,  the  notion  of  Lady  Gertrude's 
subtle  plans ;  of  the  species  of  trap  laid  for  Sir 
Reginald,  in  which  the  little  widow  was  at  once  bait 
and  fellow  victim.  He  hated  the  prospect  of  the  com- 
ing visit,  and  the  knowledge  that  he  was  again  un- 
willingly to  be  made  actor  in  the  play.  He  had  an 
uneasy  consciousness  that  the  eye  of  his  uncle  and 
chief  continued  to  reproach  him ;  and,  with  the  guilty 
memory  of  his  wife's  chatter  fresh  in  his  mind — the 
chatter  which  had  started  the  whole  mischief — he  felt 
unable  to  meet  that  eye. 

It  was  a  sultry,  thunderous  day  after  a  long 
drought ;  heavy  clouds  were  brooding  over  the  swel- 
tering town  and  malodorous  vapours  rose  from  the 
recently-watered  wood  pavement;  a  day  when  Lon- 
don looked  ugly,  dingy,  crowded;  when  a  blight 
seemed  to  hang  in  the  air  and  weigh  on  the  spirits. 
Even  Coralie's  mercurial  temperament  was  not  proof 
against  the  surrounding  depression.  She  broke  off 
in  the  midst  of  a  sentence,  drew  two  or  three  noisy 
breaths,  petulantly  untied  her  motor  veil,  and  flung 
it  back  from  her  face. 

"  My ! "  she  cried.  "  Down  at  my  home  we'd  call 
this  a  kind  of  earthquake  feeling !  Ernest,  you  may 
laugh,  but  I'm  puffecily  certain  something's  going 
to  happen  to  us.  Ouf !  "  She  kicked  a  pretty  grey 
shoe  restlessly  from  side  to  side.  "  Would  you  mind 
lifting  that  bag  of  uncle's  from  my  feet  ?  It's  crush- 


202        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

ing  the  life  out  of  me !    There's  plenty  of  room  for  it 
between  us." 

Obediently,  Captain  Jamieson  dived  for  the  bag 
and  placed  it  as  ordered.  Coralie,  as  easily  di- 
verted as  a  child,  passed  a  slender,  examining  hand 
over  it. 

"  I  wonder  what  secrets  Uncle  Reginald  has  got 
there?  Important  War  Office  documents 
or  Emerald  Fanny's  love  letters,  to  console  him  for 
their  morning's  separation.  Oh,  do  just  shift  it 
round  a  bit!  There's  a  bulge  in  it  that's  running 
right  into  me.  Just  look,  Ernest,  something  quite 
hard  is  sticking  out.  What  do  you  think  it 
is?" 

"  Pipe,"  suggested  Captain  Jamieson,  and,  upon 
her  derision,  amended  the  idea :  "  Whisky  flask." 

Coralie  looked  doubtful.  Afterwards  she  main- 
tained it  had  been  "  sorter  borne  in "  upon  her 
that  "  the  bulge "  was  connected  with  Emerald 
Fanny. 

The  last  baked  slum,  with  its  reek  of  vegetable  and 
meat  broth,  had  been  left  behind;  they  swung  out 
upon  the  flat  Bath  Road.  Fields  of  ripening  corn, 
of  meadow-land,  cabbage-fields  indigo  blue,  with  frost 
of  mauve  upon  curled-back  leaves ;  little  villages 
where  the  hideous  prosperity  of  red  brick  and  blue 
slate  were  superseding  the  picturesque  charms  of 
thatch  and  mossy  plaster,  swept  by  them  in  ever- 
shifting  panorama.  Under  the  growing  menace  of 
the  sky,  there  was  a  livid  light  in  which  the  distant 


A     WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       203 

hills  seemed  close  enough  to  touch,  and  every  homely 
tree  and  hedge  to  assume  a  curious  and  unfamiliar 
aspect. 

"  Now,  Ernest,  if  there's  a  thunderstorm,  I  give 
you  fair  notice,  I  shall  scream. — Oh,  goodness,  was 
not  that  a  flash  of  lightning !  Uncle  Reggie,  do  ask 
that  chauffeur  of  yours  to  speed  up  a  bit." 

Already  the  mutter  of  the  storm  was  following  the 
flash.  Coralie  produced  the  promised  scream.  Sir 
Reginald,  waking  from  his  abstraction,  glanced  round 
and  upwards,  then  gave  the  desired  order.  A  long 
stretch  of  road  lay  before  them.  It  seemed  as  if  an 
infraction  of  police  regulation  might  be  indulged 
in  without  danger.  Coralie's  pulses  throbbed  with 
a  not  unpleasurable  excitement  as  she  felt  the  car 
gather  itself  for  speed  like  some  living  thing  bracing 
its  muscles  for  the  race.  The  wind  sang  in  her  ears ; 
the  long  blue  ends  of  her  veil  were  seized  as  by  in- 
visible hands  and  drawn  fiercely  back.  The  mile  of 
road  that  had  stretched  its  length  before  them  was 
devoured  in  little  more  than  a  minute.  They  were 
shearing  the  corner,  hugging  the  hedge,  hardly 
slacking,  with  the  pride  inspired  by  the  very  exal- 
tation of  their  swiftness,  when  the  huge  bulk  of  a 
wain  laden  with  hay  seemed  to  rise  out  of  the  ground 
before  them.  There  was  a  shout,  a  rending  and 
crashing  of  brakes,  a  fierce  convulsion  beneath  them, 
a  sickening  swerve;  then,  to  her  intense  astonish- 
ment, Coralie  found  herself  sitting  on  the  further 
side  of  the  ditch,  every  bone  in  her  little  anatomy 
jarring  as  if  she  had  been  dropped  from  the  clouds 


204.        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

that  were  still  muttering  and  reverberating  over- 
head. 

Her  first  mental  sensation  was  one  of  fury;  how 
dared  anyone  take  such  liberties  with  her?  Her  next 
was  a  spasm  of  overwhelming  anguish;  merciful 
heavens,  where  was  her  Ernest?  The  third  was  a 
burst  of  relieved  laughter ;  for  here  was  Ernest  him- 
self staggering  up  to  her,  mud-plastered  from  the 
ditch  into  which  he  had  fallen  (with  less  discretion 
than  herself)  ;  the  kindred  anguish  on  his  counte- 
nance in  such  contrast  to  his  farcically  battered  ap- 
pearance that  it  was  no  wonder  Coralie  should 
laugh. 

"  Oh,  don't ! "  cried  Captain  Jamieson  pathetic- 
ally. He  thought  this  misplaced  mirth  alarming. 

"  No  one's  hurt,  I  trust?  "  enquired  Sir  Reginald, 
looming  in  his  turn  upon  her  vision,  dusty  but  scathe- 
less. 

The  chauffeur,  with  a  streak  of  blood  across  his 
forehead,  which  with  an  impatient  hand  he  kept 
dashing  out  of  his  eyes,  was  already  mutely  busied 
about  the  overturned  car.  From  the  top  of  the  hay- 
wain  two  gaping  visages  stared  down  at  them. 

"  What's  she  laughing  at?  "  said  the  General,  sur- 
veying her,  amazed. 

"  I  think  she's  hysterical,"  returned  Ernest,  in 
deep  concern.  "  Haven't  you  got  some  whisky,  or 
something,  in  your  bag?  " 

"  My  bag ! "  exclaimed  the  other  sharply.  Into 
his  air  of  bewilderment  sprang  a  sudden,  alert  anx- 
iety. He  limped  two  or  three  paces  forward,  glanc- 


A    WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       205 

ing  searchingly  about  him,  and  then  turned  back  to- 
ward the  car,  which,  under  the  chauffeur's  manipu- 
lation, had  ceased  to  leap  and  struggle  and  pant  like 
some  overthrown  Leviathan. 

"  Seen  my  bag  about  there,  Binks  ?  " 

The  man  glanced  round,  once  more  brushing  the 
red  trickle  from  his  forehead. 

"  Machinery's  all  right,  Sir  Reginald."  How 
could  he  think  of  bags,  or  even  of  bones,  before  he 
had  tended  his  car? 

Coralie's  laughter  broke  out  afresh. 

"  Oh,  my,  Ernest,  your  face ! — No ;  I'm  not  a  bit 
damaged. — Your  bag's  here,  Uncle  Reginald — we 
flew  out  together.  But  I'm  afraid  it's  a  considerable 
sufferer. — Now  just  don't  touch  me  for  a  minute, 
honey.  I'd  like  to  make  a  little  inventory  of  my 
anatomy  first.  I  suppose  I  am  all  here.  But  I've 
been  set  down  on  this  hedge  so  much  quicker  than 
I  intended  that  I'm  not  quite  certain  yet  which  is 
hedge  and  which  is  me.  What's  that  you  say? 
Whisky? — Ernest,  if  you  really  want  to  make 
yourself  a  widower  right  away,  you'll  talk  of 
whisky." 

"  I'm  afraid  there  is  not  any  in  the  bag,"  said  Sir 
Reginald. 

He  picked  the  damaged  article  out  of  the  ditch  as 
he  spoke.  It  had  burst  open  and  was  empty — under 
it  lay  a  bundle  of  official-looking  papers ;  further 
away  the  General  found  his  pocket-book ;  and  Ernest, 
still  gloomily  hovering  about  his  wife,  handed  him  a 
bundle  of  letters,  banded  together  by  an  india-rubber 


206        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

ring — at  which  Coralie,  still  as  pale  as  death,  but 
indomitably  perky,  kicked  him  with  a  surreptitious 
little  foot. 

"  Only  papers,  only  papers,"  said  Sir  Reginald. 
—"What's  that?"  The  chauffeur  stood  at  his 
elbow,  grimy  and  bloodstained  to  an  incredible  de- 
gree, but  unalterably  business-like. 

"  Get  a  couple  of  poles  out  of  the  hedge,  sir — 
fellows  over  there  will  help  us — lend  a  hand  yourself 
and  the  Captain,  sir — right  the  car  in  a  few  minutes 
— machinery  all  right,  Sir  Reginald." 

But  his  master  only  paid  a  distracted  attention. 

"  Just  look  along  that  hedge,  Binks ;  there's  a 
box  missing  out  of  my  bag." 

Coralie,  who  had  so  far  recovered  herself  as  to 
allow  her  husband  to  support  her,  as  she  sat,  lifted 
the  head  which  had  sunk  somewhat  dizzily  on  his 
shoulder : 

"  Lost  anything,  Uncle  Reginald  ?  "  she  enquired, 
irrepressible  mischief  shooting  from  her  eye.  ("  It 
wasn't  a  whisky  flask;  it  wasn't  a  pipe-case,"  she 
whispered  to  Ernest,  tittering  again.) 

The  General  made  no  reply.  He  was  walking 
along  by  the  ditch,  stooping  now  and  again  to  push 
aside  branch  or  leaf.  The  chauffeur  pursued  the  same 
manoeuvre  in  the  opposite  direction. 

"  Ugh ! "  said  Coralie,  "  I'm  beginning  to  find  out 
which  is  me,  and  I  rather  think  I'm  sitting  on  some- 
thing uncommonly  hard." 

She  shifted  one  hand  to  her  husband's  collar  and 
pulled  herself  gingerly  upwards.  The  other  hand  she 


A    WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       207 

slipped  testingly  underneath  her.  All  at  once  she 
gave  a  little  cry. 

"My  darling!"  ejaculated  Captain  Jamieson, 
startled  out  of  his  usual  reticence. 

"  Don't  you  move.  For  your  life,  don't  touch  me. 
No,  you  dear  idiot,  I  ain't  hurt  one  mite." 

She  twisted  in  his  grasp,  with  a  vigour  which  in 
itself  was  sufficiently  reassuring,  and  then  sat  down 
again,  still  keeping  one  hand  beneath  her. 

"  Now  you  go  and  help  poor  Uncle  Reginald.  He 
seems  reel  anxious.  Suppose  you  were  to  look  over 
the  hedge  into  the  field." 

As  Captain  Jamieson — anxious  to  humour  her 
slightest  whim — reared  his  sturdy  figure  to  stare 
obediently  over  the  hedge,  his  wife,  after  assuring 
herself  that  none  were  watching  her,  nipped  a  small 
box  from  under  her,  gave  one  swift  glance  at  it,  and 
hid  it  on  her  lap  under  the  folds  of  her  cloak. 

"  Poor  Uncle  Reginald,"  she  exclaimed  then,  in 
her  soft,  caressing  accents.  "  I  expect  it  was  some- 
thing of  real  value  that  was  in  that  box !  " 

Sir  Reginald's  peregrination  had  brought  him  once 
more  close  to  his  niece.  He  straightened  himself  and 
stared  at  her.  Then,  as  the  bearing  of  her  words  was 
borne  in  upon  him,  he  gave  a  weary  smile. 

"  Not  at  all,  my  dear,  not  at  all. — Binks,  ask  those 
fellows  in  the  cart  if  anything  fell  near  them? — • 
What's  that  you  say?  I  tell  you,  my  dear,  it  was 

nothing  of  any  value,  only  it  happens "  He 

broke  off,  plunged  into  the  ditch  to  look  over  the 
hedge  beside  his  nephew,  and  continued  as  if  to  him- 


208        DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

self :  "  Wrapped  up  in  white  paper,  it  could  not 
escape  us  there.  I  wonder,  Coralie,  if  you  would 
mind  getting  up.  It  might  be  somewhere  about 
you." 

"  But  what  was  in  it?  "  enquired  Coralie,  as  she 
allowed  her  husband  to  lift  her  on  to  the  road. 
"What  was  m  it?" 

Her  uncle  wheeled  abruptly  on  her  pertinacity. 
And  then,  with  a  determined  smoothing  of  his  brow, 
he  answered — he  never  knew  what  had  inspired  such 
a  flight  of  fancy: 

"  Jujubes — my  dear." 

"  Jujubes! "  she  gave  a  crow  of  laughter. 

"  Yes,  jujubes — lozenges,"  he  cried  glibly,  again 
smothering  his  exasperation ;  "  a  special  kind — In- 
dian recipe — only  to  be  obtained  in  Bond  Street." 

He  was  feverishly  hunting,  as  he  shot  these  ex- 
planations at  her.  Once  more  she  laughed ;  and  once 
more  the  anxious  husband  bent  over  her. 

"  I'm  all  right,"  she  cried,  pushing  him  from  her 
with  an  energetic  elbow.  Under  the  pretence  of 
shaking  herself  into  neatness,  she  slipped  the  box 
into  the  deeper  pocket  of  her  motor  wrap.  Then 
she  straightened  her  hat,  tied  her  veil,  and  turned 
a  still  pale  but  smiling  countenance  blinkingly  upon 
him. 

"  Can't  see  any  box,  Sir  Reginald,"  reported  Binks 
in  official  tones.  "  Shall  I  see  about  righting  her  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  confound  you !  "  cried  the  General  with 
a  sudden  explosion  of  temper,  very  foreign  to  him 
in  dealing  with  a  subordinate. 


Coralie  watched  the  struggle  with  the  motor-car 
abstractedly.  At  another  time  the  scene  would  have 
stirred  her  to  considerable  excitement;  especially  as 
it  was  her  Ernest  who,  with  his  artilleryman's  ex- 
perience, now  took  the  lead.  She  would  have  panted 
with  the  moment  of  effort ;  rated  the  countrymen 
who  stolidly  impeded  the  smart  soldier-like  work  of 
the  other  three  men;  loudly  rejoiced  in  the  final  tri- 
umph. But  her  mind  was  circling  round  her  recent 
action.  She  had  had  her  suspicions  even  before  one 
lightning  glance  had  revealed  to  her  the  wrappings 
of  the  box  which  Sir  Reginald  declared  contained 
jujubes.  Well  she  knew  (from  pleasant  experience) 
the  artistic  appearance  of  a  purchase  from  Holroyd 
and  Rossiter,  the  celebrated  Bond  Street  jewellers ; 
the  paper  of  parchment-like  appearance,  the  green 
silk  tape,  the  firm's  seal,  stamped  with  the  royal  ap- 
pointment coat  of  arms.  Jujubes  ...  !  It 
was  that  decided  her.  What  that  box  contained  was 
some  gift,  apparently  unavowable ;  ergo,  destined  to 
Emerald  Fanny.  Had  it  been  destined  to  Gertrude, 
or  Norah,  it  would  certainly  not  have  been  called 
"  jujubes."  She  had  been  first  impelled  by  the  merest 
mischievous  freak.  Now  the  importance  of  her  own 
action  began  to  strike  her.  But  she  had  no  inten- 
tion of  receding.  It  might  be  of  the  greatest  use  to 
Lady  Gertrude  to  discover  what  that  box  contained ; 
and  it  was  Coralie's  intention  that  she  should  see 
it.  Aunt  Gertrude  would  never  stoop  to  such  a  pro- 
ceeding on  her  own  account;  but  she,  Coralie,  was 
disturbed  by  no  such  scruples. 


210        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

Ju j  ubes ! 

The  man  who  could  formulate  this  idiotic  pretext 
for  his  anxiety  deserved  all  he  would  get. 

"  Smart  bit  of  work,"  said  Ernest,  mopping  his 
flushed  forehead  as  he  came  up  to  his  wife. 

Binks  was  under  the  now  righted  car,  tinkering 
lustily.  The  General  stood  hunting  through  his 
pockets  for  half-crowns  for  the  yokels.  All  at  once 
he  pushed  them  on  one  side,  stepped  on  the  wheel  of 
the  hay-cart,  and  hoisted  himself  aloft. 

"  Hallo !  "  cried  his  nephew,  staring. 

"  He  thinks  his  jujubes  have  flown  up  there," 
gasped  Coralie ;  and  her  husband  was  not  wrong  this 
time  in  detecting  something  distinctly  hysterical  in 
her  mirth. 

It  was  at  this  point  that  the  rain  began. 

" 1  say,  Uncle  Reginald,"  shouted  Captain  Jamie- 
son,  "  can't  we  telephone  for  these  blessed  things 
from  the  Court ;  I  really  must  get  Coralie  home." 

The  General  protruded  an  irate  and  grimy  counte- 
nance over  the  top  of  the  hay,  then  he  dropped  to  the 
ground  and  surveyed  the  carters  with  suspicion.  A 
welcome  throbbing  now  resounded  in  the  air,  and 
Binks,  irradiated  with  joy,  sent  the  car  tentatively 
down  the  road. 

"  She's  as  right  as  a  trivet,"  he  shouted  over  his 
shoulder. 

Quickly  Ernest  packed  his  wife  into  the  car,  cov- 
ered her  with  mackintoshes,  and  assumed  his  own 
seat.  The  cart  lumbered  on  and  was  soon  lost  to 
sight  round  the  corner.  The  General  remained  sta- 


A    WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       211 

tionary;  his  eye  still  roaming  disconsolately  from 
hedge  to  hedge.  Coralie,  watching  with  a  sense  of 
determined  guilt,  saw  him  at  last  take  out  his  pocket- 
book  and  jot  down  a  few  notes. 

"  He  means  to  come  back  and  have  a  real  good 
old  hunt  by  himself,"  she  thought ;  and,  pressing  the 
box  against  her  side  with  a  secret  hand,  blinked  inno- 
cently at  him  through  the  driving  rain. 

"  I  told  you  you  were  taking  a  curse  out  with  you, 
to-day,"  she  said  plaintively.  "  Now,  Erny,  you  will 
believe  in  Mr.  Scuro  another  time.  Tuesdays  and 
wheels — beware  of  Tuesdays  and  wheels." 

"  By  Jove !  "  said  Ernest,  immensely  struck.  "  And 
emeralds,  too !  " 

The  General,  his  foot  on  the  steps,  wheeled  round 
on  her,  sharply:  "  What's  that?  " 

Never  had  Coralie's  face  looked  more  convincingly 
childish,  as  she  proceeded: 

"  That's  what  the  occultist  said.  A  man  in  Bond 
Street,  Uncle  Reginald.  He  said  that  emeralds 
would  have  a  great  influence  on  our  lives." 

"  Pshaw !  "  said  Sir  Reginald,  dropping  heavily 
into  his  seat. 

"  Come,  now,  Coralie,"  said  Ernest,  as  the  car 
pushed  forward,  surprisingly  unaffected  by  its  ex- 
perience. "  You  mustn't  let  your  mind  dwell  on  this 
kind  of  thing. — Coincidence,  you  know.  Bound  to 
be  coincidences  in  life." 

"  Oh,  you  do  see  the  coincidence  at  last,"  she  com- 
mented, with  a  sidelong  glance  at  him.  Then  she 
raised  her  voice  and  pursued  meditatively.  "  What 


DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

wonderful  things  one  can  find  in  Bond  Street — irre- 
placeable jujubes,  and  crystal  gazers,  whose  prophe- 
cies come  true." 

Sir  Reginald  sat  very  square.  Coralie  hoped,  how- 
ever, that  he  had  heard. 

He  had  heard  and  drawn  his  own  conclusions: 
Coralie  suspected  him.  Well,  he  had  given  himself 
away  with  that  idiotic  jujube  business.  A  few  days 
ago  he  had  not  been  quite  sure  whether  he  liked 
Coralie  or  not.  Now  he  knew. 


VII 

THEY  left  the  storm  behind  them.  It  had  swept 
over  Windsor  and  rolled  eastwards ;  and  the  Orange 
Court  avenue  was  glittering  and  dripping  from  every 
leaf  as  they  swung  in.  The  air  wus  delicious ;  the 
warmth  of  the  sunshine  and  the  smell  of  the  wet 
earth  intoxicating  after  the  gloom  and  depression. 

Lady  Gertrude  came  out  to  the  porch  to  meet 
them,  followed  by  Mrs.  Lancelot  and  Norah  lovingly 
entwined.  At  the  news  of  the  accident  Emerald  was 
so  overcome  that  her  hostess's  sudden  pallor  passed 
unnoticed. 

"  How  terrible !  How  awful ! "  cried  the  widow, 
clasping  her  little  beringed  hands.  "  Oh,  Sir  Regi- 
nald, are  you  quite,  quite  sure  you're  not  hurt! — 
They  were  flung  out,  Lady  Gertrude ;  isn't  it  terrible  ? 
Oh,  the  poor  chauffeur,  his  face  is  all  cut ! "  She 
covered  her  eyes  with  the  expressive  hands. 

"  You'll  be  glad  to  know,  Mrs.  Lancelot,"  said 
Coralie,  "  that  I'm  perfectly  sound.  And  so  is 
Ernest ;  and  Sir  Reginald  has  lost  nothing  but  a  box 
of  jujubes." 

But  the  General  was  now  on  his  guard.  As  the 
others  descended  he  remained  seated  in  his  place,  and 
was  overhauling  the  contents  of  his  bag  with  a  con- 
vincing air  of  anxiety.  "  I'm  very  much  afraid," 

213 


214.        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

he  said,  "  that  I've  lost  something  of  greater  import- 
ance— an  official  letter — of  some  privacy.  I  am 
afraid  I  must  go  back." 

Emerald  gave  a  cry  like  the  proverbial  wounded 
dove  as  the  car  was  started  into  motion  again: 

"  Going  back !  Oh,  Lady  Gertrude — after  the 
shock,  the  danger !  Oh,  Lady  Gertrude !  " 

"  Take  me ! "  cried  Norah,  springing  down  the 
steps. 

"  Certainly  not !  "  cried  her  father  testily. 

"You're  imrry  sensitive,  are  you  not?"  said 
Coralie  in  a  derisive  undertone  to  the  widow,  as  she 
stood  with  misting  eyes  watching  the  backing  and 
turning  of  the  machine. 

"  Come  in  to  tea,"  said  Lady  Gertrude,  with  her 
impassive  air.  "  Norah,  I  did  not  invite  you  down- 
stairs this  afternoon." 

Coralie,  whose  eyes  nothing  seemed  to  escape, 
caught  here  an  interchanged  glance  between  Norah 
and  her  friend. 

"  Poor  darling ! "  compassioned  the  latter's  gaze ; 
and  "  Isn't  it  a  shame ! "  rebelled  Norah's. 

The  two  parted,  after  a  clinging  embrace  at  the 
foot  of  the  stairs.  Coralie  watched  Norah  disappear, 
with  an  unwonted  gravity  upon  her  countenance. 
The  girl,  she  thought,  had  subtly  altered  from  what 
she  remembered;  and  not — as  Lady  Gertrude  had 
already  given  her  to  understand — for  the  better. 
She,  whose  charm  had  been  that  of  an  April  fresh- 
ness and  spontaneity,  had  gathered  an  air  of  self- 
consciousness.  She  had  always  had  a  trick  of  tossing 


A    WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       215 

her  head  like  a  young  colt,  of  pouting  and  flashing 
her  displeasure ;  but  it  had  been  artless,  with  a  child- 
ish petulance  that  disarmed,  almost  attracted.  Here 
was  the  toss  of  the  head,  here  the  pout,  the  flash  of 
the  eye,  but  with  a  difference.  It  was  as  if  she  knew 
that  her  defiance  became  her;  as  if  she  was  aware  of 
its  effectiveness  upon  others. 

"  The  child  is  positively  stagey,"  said  the  Ameri- 
can to  herself. 

Doubts  of  Lady  Gertrude's  wisdom  were  creeping 
into  her  mind  as  she  followed  her  into  the  drawing- 
room.  The  long,  low,  flowery  room,  with  its  charm- 
ing cross-lights,  its  air  of  refinement  and  comfort, 
seemed  to  Coralie  altered  too.  Perhaps  it  wa,s  only 
that  the  atmosphere  of  trefle  incarnat  was  peculiarly 
out  of  place  in  spaces  consecrated  hitherto  to  the 
delicate  breath  of  flowers,  or  the  faintest  sighs  of 
old  potpourri. 

Emerald  Fanny  herself,  extended  at  her  ease  in  a 
low  chair,  was  a  note  of  absolute  discordance;  her 
small  feet  crossed  in  high-heeled  patent-leather  shoes, 
with  diamond  buckles,  emerged  from  an  incredible 
mass  of  mauve  muslin  frills — mauve  approaching  to 
the  pink  that  would  so  soon  engulf  her  widow's 
mourning.  No  doubt  of  it  the  time  was  approaching 
when  it  would  be  his  wish,  from  behind  the  veil,  that 
she  should  cease  from  trappings  of  woe. 

An  emerald  brooch,  one  superb  stone,  fastened 
Mrs.  Lancelot's  transparent  and  somewhat  decotte- 
tee  laces  just  below  her  throat.  Beneath  the  film 
of  the  muslin  bodice  a  considerable  portion  of  the 


DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

widow's  fair  skin  and  a  lace  chemisette,  tied  with 
pale  pink  ribbons,  were  coyly  visible. 

"  I  thought  the  pink  was  not  far  off,"  said  Coralie 
sardonically  to  herself. 

As  Mrs.  Lancelot  leaned  forward,  to  pass  on  ef- 
fusively the  cup  of  tea  which  had  just  been  poured 
out,  Coralie  noted,  with  further  disgust,  the  large 
mourning  ring  of  black  enamel,  set  in  diamonds, 
that  flashed  upon  the  bereaved  one's  finger;  and, 
with  a  touch  that  could  only  have  been  conceived  and 
carried  out  by  Emerald  Fanny,  was  further  attached 
by  a  couple  of  loops  of  fine  gold  chain  to  the  pad- 
locked bracelet  on  her  slender  wrist.  Coralie  knew 
that  bracelet.  He  had  locked  it  upon  Emerald's 
arm  at  their  betrothal.  She  knew  that  the  key  of  it 
was  hanging  somewhere  among  those  pink  ribbons 
on  the  widow's  bosom.  Poor  Mr.  Lancelot,  with  his 
Civil  Service  income,  had  not  been  able  to  rise  above 
gold  bracelets.  But  who  had  paid  for  the  wonderful 
mourning  ring?  And  who  the  donor  of  the  brooch? 
Mon  preux? 

Refusing,  for  reasons  of  her  own,  to  be  divested 
from  her  damp  motor  cloak,  Coralie  sat,  in  unwonted 
silence,  sipping  with  much  disfavour  the  tea  handed 
by  Emerald  Fanny. 

"  It  tastes  of  trefle  incarnat"  she  thought  peev- 
ishly. "  The  trail  of  the  serpent  is  over  it  all." 

"  Poor  Mrs.  Jamieson,"  murmured  Mrs.  Lancelot, 
lifting  her  wide-pupilled  eyes  devouringly  upon  Cap- 
tain Jamieson,  "  she's  very  much  upset,  I'm  afraid. 
She  looks  so  pale;  not  at  all  like  herself.  Indeed, 


A    WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       217 

I'm  not  surprised.  Only  to  hear  about  your  accident 
has  given  me  such  a  shake. — No  cake,  thank  you. 
No,  I  don't  feel  as  if  I  could  eat  anything.  Dear 
Lady  Gertrude,  I  wish  I  had  your  wonderful  self- 
control." 

Lady  Gertrude  was  not  feeling  particularly  in 
spirits  or  appetite  herself.  But  the  mere  sight  of 
the  widow's  sensibilities  drove  her  to  muffin.  She 
knew  very  well  how  the  contrast  would  presently  be 
commented  oh,  in  Sir  Reginald's  ear.  She  smiled  at 
the  thought.  She  could  hear  the  very  tone  in  which 
"  Your  wife's  wonderful  composure,  and  my  silly 
impressionability  about  those  I  love,"  would  be  dul- 
cetly  depicted. 

"  I  really  think  Coralie  ought  to  go  and  lie  down," 
said  her  husband,  whose  air  and  tone  became  ever 
gruffer  in  his  anxiety. 

"  Well,  I  reelly  think  I  will  go  upstairs,"  said 
Coralie.  "  No,  please,  I  don't  want  anybody  with 
me.  No,  Ernest  " — a  rare  accent  of  pettishness  rang 
in  her  voice — "  you  stay  and  sustain  Mrs.  Lancelot's 
fainting  soul." 

The  eyes  of  the  two  women  met.  Coralie  saw,  with 
some  triumph,  a  hard  contraction  of  the  pupil  in 
the  widow's  would-be  melting  orbs. 

"  I  shan't  know  a  moment's  peace  till  that  motor 
car  is  back  again,"  confessed  Mrs.  Lancelot  in  her 
trilling  voice. 

"  Under  Aunt  Gertrude's  very  nose,"  muttered  the 
American  indignantly  to  herself.  "  How  far  has 
the  creature  got,  in  the  name  of  heaven?  Well,  she 


218       DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

little  knows  what's  in  my  pocket."  Aloud  she  could 
think  of  no  better  retort  than  a  scornful  repetition 
of  her  previous  comment :  "  You're  reelly  very  sen- 
sitive, aren't  you  ?  " 

"  I  am  afraid  I  am,"  sighed  Emerald,  with  much 
sweetness,  putting  down  her  unfinished  cup  of  tea. 

"  Yours  is  the  first  room  at  the  top  of  the  stairs. 
Do  you  want  me,  Coralie?  "  enquired  Lady  Gertrude. 

Her  serene  voice  fell  refreshingly  on  Mrs.  Jamie- 
son's  exasperated  ear. 

"  No,  I'd  rather  be  alone,"  she  responded  unhesi- 
tatingly, and  closed  the  door  in  her  husband's  face 
as  he  still  attempted  to  follow  her.  "  I  shall  grow 
puffectly  brutal,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  if  I  live  long 
with  that  mass  of  affectation." 

Then  slowly  and  painfully,  for  she  was  beginning 
to  feel  in  every  joint  the  shock  of  her  fall,  she  as- 
cended the  stairs. 

The  pert  soubrette  was  engaged  in  unpacking. 
Her,  Coralie  dismissed,  and  locking  the  door,  pro- 
ceeded feverishly  to  draw  the  packet  from  its  con- 
cealment. She  opened  the  case  and  stood  staring 
aghast.  Then  her  knees  shook  under  her.  She  let 
herself  fall  into  an  armchair,  still  staring. 

She  had  expected  a  handsome  piece  of  jewellery — 
but  this — this  was  the  gift  of  a  king ;  of  a  king  to  a 
favourite;  the  gift  of  a  millionaire  to  his  -fiancee. 
Upon  the  white  velvet  before  her  lay  coiled  a  "  dog 
collar  " — it  was  formed  of  links  of  white  and  green 
enamel,  fretted  with  small  diamonds — four  clasps, 
each  set  with  a  large  flat  emerald,  held  the  chain 


A    WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       219 

work,  which  was  some  two  inches  wide,  together. 
Not  only  were  the  emeralds  singularly  fine  stones, 
but  the  workmanship  of  the  whole  was  a  wonderful 
piece  of  artistic  craft. 

Coralie  knew  that  collar.  And  she  knew  its  price. 
Holroyd  and  Rossiter  were  extremely  proud  of  the 
production,  and  made  a  point  of  displaying  it  to 
their  best  customers,  more  for  their  admiration  than 
with  any  immediate  hope  of  sale.  Coralie  might  be 
counted  among  the  valued  patrons  of  the  great  firm, 
but  even  for  her  purse  the  price  was  prohibitive.  She 
had  gazed  with  wistful  eyes,  but  had  resolutely  re- 
fused herself  an  extravagance  which  would  have  up- 
set her  budget  for  the  year.  Yet  she  knew  that 
jewel  would  have  mightily  become  her  pretty  long 
throat.  It  is  not  every  woman  who  can  wear  a  collar 
with  grace:  she  would  have  triumphed  in  it. 

As  now  she  sat  and  gazed,  a  sense  of  personal 
insult  added  itself  to  the  fury  that  seized  her.  Em- 
erald Fanny,  Emerald  Fanny — to  disport  herself  in 
the  gaud  denied  to  Coralie  Jamieson !  Sir  Reginald 
to  be  lavishing  gifts  worth  over  a  thousand  pounds 
on  the  creature — while  to  his  wife  and  child  (in  her 
solitude  Coralie  laughed  aloud:  she  had  seen  the 
Indian  trinkets)  the  gold  cross  studded  with  to- 
pazes and  peridots,  the  turquoise  beads  .  .  . 
which  the  General  had  brought  home  for  Lady  Ger- 
trude and  Norah  respectively  !  With  trembling  hands 
she  took  the  collar  from  its  nest  and  went  to  the 
window.  Behind  the  central  clasp,  which  was  larger 
and  more  elaborate  than  the  others,  ran  a  narrow 


220        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

gold  plate.  This  was  inscribed,  in  minute  letters ; 
Emerald!  and  the  date,  1905 — two  years  previous. 

She  had  known  it  all  without  hesitation.  Yet  at 
this  confirmation  a  feeling  of  faintness  and  nausea 
came  over  her.  All  her  anger  was  lost  in  a  tide  of 
compassion  for  her  aunt. 

"  Oh,  poor  Aunt  G. !  poor  Aunt  G. !  and  she  so 
proud.  To  think  that  this  humiliation,  this  outrage, 
should  be  dealt  her,  and  in  her  own  house ! " 

A  moment  Coralie  knew  terror  for  her  audacious 
act.  A  moment  she  hesitated  whether  she  should  not 
rush  out  into  the  road  with  the  horrible  thing  and 
drop  it  into  the  nearest  ditch.  But  the  sound  of 
trailing  accents  in  the  pasage :  "  Dear  Lady  Ger- 
trude, aren't  you  anxious  .  .  ?  "  decided  her. 
She  sprang  to  the  door  and  unlocked  it,  and  stood 
awaiting  her  aunt's  entrance.  She  felt  she  was  com- 
ing. 

"  Not  in  bed,  dear?  "  said  the  placid  voice,  as  the 
expected  visitor  entered  upon  her.  The  next  instant 
there  came  another  question  in  altered  tones :  "  Cor- 
alie, what  is  it  ?  " 

"  Look,  Aunt  G. !  "  Coralie  spread  the  jewels  to 
her  aunt's  gaze.  Lady  Gertrude  was  quick  to  feel 
that  importance,  perhaps  calamity,  was  attached  to 
the  glittering  things.  Silently  she  glanced  from  them 
to  her  niece's  quivering  face.  Two  scarlet  patches 
of  colour  flashed  on  the  American's  cheeks.  Her  eyes 
blazed  behind  tears,  her  mouth  quivered  fiercely  over 
the  little  white  teeth. 

"  Uncle  Reginald  dropped  this — I  picked  it  up — 


A     WEEK'S     CHRONICLE 

I  knew,  I  guessed.  It's  for  .  .  .  it's  for  that 
creature !  This  is  what  he's  gone  back  to  hunt  for 
now — his  important  War  Office  letter — his  jujubes; 
ha,  ha,  ha!" 

"  My  dear "  said  Lady  Gertrude  soothingly. 

She  laid  a  cool,  firm  touch  for  a  moment  on  Cora- 
lie's  twitching  fingers ;  then  she  moved  towards  the 
door,  locked  it  and  came  back. 

"  You  don't  understand !  "  almost  sobbed  Coralie. 

"  I  do,"  said  Gertrude.  "  Quite.  Now,  my  dear, 
sit  down.  All  this  is  too  much  for  you.  Give  me — 
this  gorgeous  thing.  It  is  very  beautiful.  How  do 
you  know  it  is  meant  for  .  .  .  Mrs.  Lancelot?  " 

There  was  actually  a  faint  smile  tilting  the  cor- 
ners of  her  mouth  as  she  spoke. 

"  I  knew  it ! "  cried  the  other  tragically ;  then  she 
added :  "  Look  at  the  back  of  the  great  emerald  in 
front." 

The  wife  went  to  the  window ;  except  for  the  fold- 
ing of  her  eyelids  in  the  effort  to  read  the  small 
characters,  her  face  was  unmoved.  When  she  turned 
round  again  to  her  niece,  she  found  the  latter  in  tears. 
Instantly  she  dropped  the  collar  on  the  dressing- 
table,  and  enfolded  the  slight,  sobbing  figure  in 
motherly  arms: 

"  But  Coralie,  my  little  Coralie,  my  dear,  are  you 
weeping  for  your  theft — for  the  trick  you  played 
your  uncle  ?  "  The  dusky  head  was  shaken.  "  For 
me,  then?  Take  it  from  me,  there  is  no  occasion." 

Coralie  gave  vent  to  an  incoherent  indictment. 

"  Under  your  own  roof — worth  a  small  fortune !  " 


222        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

She  ended  up  with  a  high  note  of  hysterical  de- 
rision :  "  And  you  got  a  topaz  cross  !  " 

Lady  Gertrude  laughed  gently.  She  sat  down  be- 
side her  champion,  who  was  now  mopping  her  eyes 
and  blowing  her  minute  nose  with  as  fierce  a  hand 
as  if  it  had  Emerald  Fanny's  to  tweak  instead  of 
her  own. 

"  I  know  what  you  think,  but,  odd  as  it  may  seem 
to  you,  I  don't  believe  it.  You  see,  I  know  my  poor 
Reginald  pretty  well  by  this  time,  and  I  have  seen 
them  together  these  days.  Whatever  is  between 
them — a  good  deal  of  nonsense  on  my  husband's 
side,  ceaseless  machinations  on  hers — it  is  not  what 
you  suspect.  Why,  my  dear,  do  you  think  I  should 
have  kept  her  an  hour,  if  I  was  not  certain — here 
with  my  child !  " 

Coralie  lifted  her  tear-stained  countenance  and 
blinked,  wondering,  yet  only  half  convinced. 

"  That  thing  there  cost  considerably  over  a 
thousand  pounds!  Holroyd  and  Rossiter  showed  it 
to  me  only  the  other  day." 

"  And  you  may  be  sure  they  showed  it  to  Mrs. 
Lancelot  too,"  said  Gertrude.  "  She  was  in  the  shop 
the  morning  she  came  here,  I  know,  getting  that 
ridiculous  mourning  ring " 

"  Which  Uncle  Reginald  paid  for,  you  bet,"  said 
Coralie,  savagely  dabbing  away  at  another  irre- 
pressible tear. 

"  I  daresay  he  did."  The  wife  was  imperturbable. 
"  Did  you  notice  the  date  on  the  inscription — 1905, 
when  the  poor  dear  fondly  believes  he  was  at  death's 
door,  and  that  Mrs.  Lancelot  saved  his  life  by  her 


A    WEEK'S     CHRONICLE 

devoted  nursing.  No,  I'm  not  at  all  upset.  In  fact, 
it  all  confirms  my  impression.  Reginald  is  getting 
sick  of  his  little  madame,  and  this — this  splendid 
offering,"  she  waved  her  hand  towards  the  dressing- 
table  and  laughed  again,  "  is  a  kind  of  final  settle- 
ment. She  can't  say,  with  that  round  her  neck,  that 
he's  not  been  grateful." 

"  Oh,  dear !  "  e j  aculated  the  American  irritably. 
"  What  a  lot  of  common  sense  you've  got,  Aunt  G. ! 
I  wouldn't  have  taken  it  like  that  if  Ernest  had 
given  as  much  as  a  silver  bangle  to  that  snake !  " 

For  the  first  time  a  look  of  sadness  came  over  Ger- 
trude Esdale's  serene  countenance.  She  smiled,  and 
Coralie  would  rather  have  seen  tears  in  the  sweet 
eyes. 

"  My  dear,"  she  said,  "  that  is  a  very  different 
thing." 

"  Well,  I  seem  to  have  made  a  pretty  considerable 
fool  of  myself  ...  at  that  rate !  It  will  teach 
me  to  steal  on  the  highway!  Do  you  know,"  with 
yet  another  brisk  change  of  tone,  "  he  told  me  it  was 
cough  lozenges !  When  I  heard  that,  I  really 
couldn't  let  him  have  it  back ! " 

Lady  Gertrude  laughed  out,  with  a  heartiness  rare 
to  her. 

"  Well,  it  shows  one  thing,  Coralie — that  he's  not 
very  good  at  lying.  My  poor  Reginald!  Why, 
don't  you  see  what  an  innocent  he  is,  through  it  all?  " 

She  rose  from  her  seat  again,  lifted  the  case  from 
where  it  lay  at  Coralie's  feet,  and  fitted  the  collar 
carefully  back. 

"  And  what  are  we  going  to  do  now  ?  "  enquired 


Mrs.  Jamieson,  a  cold  sense  of  apprehension  replacing 
her  excitement. 

"  You're  going  to  lie  down  till  dinner ;  and  I'm 
going  to  keep  this — for  the  present." 

A  gleam  of  joy  sprang  into  Coralie's  eyes,  heavy 
now  with  fatigue. 

"Aunt  G.,"  she  hissed  through  her  teeth,  "I 
hope  you'll  punish  him,  all  the  same ! " 

Lady  Gertrude  paused  on  her  way  to  the  door: 
"  Reginald's  punishment,  poor  fellow,  began  a  week 
ago,"  she  said  enigmatically.  "  As  for  this — well, 
you'll  see  to-night." 

Before  Coralie  took  the  very  sensible  advice  given 
by  her  aunt,  she  went  to  pull  down  the  blinds.  She 
did  not  want  Jeanette  "  fussing  around,"  prying  at 
her  tear-stained  face,  but  she  was  just  a  "  leetle  " 
bit  surprised  that  Ernest  should  not  have  come  to 
enquire  for  her.  He  had  been  in  the  garden,  she 
knew — she  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  him  walking 
up  and  down  between  the  roses.  But  it  was  at  the 
moment  of  her  examination  of  the  collar,  and  she 
had  no  thought  to  spare  for  him.  He  was  in  the 
garden  still,  perambulating  the  rose-walk,  puffing  at 
a  thick  cheeroot. 

"  He's  sulking,  poor  darling ! "  said  Coralie,  as 
she  surveyed  him.  She  remembered  her  unprecedented 
tartness  with  him  and  how  she  had  slammed  the  door 
in  his  face.  "  Well,  I'd  as  lief  he  went  on  sulking. 
I  can't  have  him  asking  me  questions  just  now, 
Ernest  being  one  of  those  blundering,  one-idead  peo- 
ple who  cannot  see  that  the  end  justifies  the  means." 


VIII 

SIR  REGINALD,  returning  from  his  bootless  search, 
felt  that  fate  was  treating  him  extremely  ill.  He 
was,  coining  the  phrase  for  himself,  "  on  a  three- 
horned  dilemma,"  and  a  desperately  uncomfortable 
position  it  proved. 

There  was  the  loss  of  an  object  of  considerable 
value ;  there  was  the  danger  of  its  falling  into  wrong 
hands  and  subjecting  him  to  unmerited  suspicion, 
domestic  misunderstanding,  possible  scandal;  and 
there  was  the  old  complication — "  that  horrid,  awk- 
ward state  of  affairs  "  in  which  he  found  himself 
between  his  little  friend  and  his  wife.  The  untoward 
accident  had  closed  the  issue  which,  in  his  masculine 
way,  at  the  cost  of  much  expense  and  diplomacy,  he 
had  been  making  for  himself.  Besides  all  this,  he 
was  conscious  that  he  had  made  an  abject  fool  of 
himself  before  Coralie;  and  that  she  was  very  natu- 
rally suspicious  of  him  in  consequence.  This  was  a 
minor  irritation,  yet  it  galled  him. 

Clouds  had  risen  up  again,  after  the  break  in  the 
storm,  and  thunder  was  muttering  in  the  distance, 
while  angry  rain-gusts  swept  against  the  land.  He 
was  shaken,  too,  and  bruised  from  his  fall,  felt  chilled 
and  exhausted;  he  was  the  more  easily  affected  by 
the  English  climate,  coming  from  Indian  heats.  The 

225 


226        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

memory  of  Emerald's  anxious  countenance,  as  he 
had  last  seen  it,  haunted  him  with  a  culminating 
sense  of  exasperation.  This  week  of  her  visit!  He 
would  rather  have  gone  through  his  most  arduous 
campaign  twice  over  than  face  such  an  experience 
again.  And  here  he  was,  speeding  back  to  it !  Now 
his  feeling  swayed  all  to  anger  against  his  wife,  who 
was  responsible  for  the  situation ;  now,  on  the  swing 
of  the  pendulum,  he  told  himself  that  Emerald  Fanny 
was  insupportable.  If  the  woman  wanted  to  com- 
promise him,  she  could  scarcely  be  taking  a  better 
way  about  it.  Then  his  tortured  mind  would  be 
struck  by  a  hideous  suggestion.  Did  she  want  to 
compromise  him?  Followed  by  its  converse  question, 
by  the  old  doubt:  was  Gertrude  basely  suspicious, 
and  had  she  laid  a  trap  for  him  in  his  own  house? 

But,  for  all  his  faults,  Sir  Reginald  had  an  ever 
chivalrous  instinct,  which  in  some  measure  justified 
Mrs.  Lancelot's  favourite  appellation  of  mon  preux. 
He  drove  both  thoughts  from  him  with  horror, 
however  they  might  recur. 

Nevertheless,  his  last  private  conversation  with  his 
visitor — the  conversation  which  had  resulted  in  the 
purchase  in  Bond  Street — was  one  that  undoubtedly 
provided  him  with  food  for  reflection. 

They  had  been  together  in  the  library ;  Mrs.  Lance- 
lot had  a  way  of  gravitating  to  that  room,  upon 
some  transparent  excuse  or  other.  On  this  par- 
ticular occasion  she  had  found  a  new  pretext — a 
packet  for  India  to  weigh.  The  operation  having 


A     WEEK'S     CHRONICLE 

been  duly  performed  on  the  scales  of  Sir  Reginald's 
writing-table,  she  had  remained  standing  beside  him, 
with  extended  hand.  And  drawing  his  attention  to 
the  mourning  ring,  the  diamonds  of  which  were 
flashing  in  the  sunshine,  she  had  breathed  softly: 

"  I  have  never  been  able  to  tell  you  all  that  is  in 
my  heart  about  this." 

The  absurd  little  chains  had  quivered  with  the 
trembling  of  the  fragile  hand.  Sir  Reginald  had 
wheeled  round  in  his  writing-chair,  an  odd  mixture 
of  awkwardness,  irritation,  and  the  old  protective 
tenderness  struggling  in  his  mind.  However  heart- 
ily he  might  wish  her  away,  out  of  his  house,  out  of 
his  life,  she  had  the  power  of  stirring  intimate  and 
delicate  emotions  within  him  as  perhaps  no  other 
woman. 

"  There  is  no  need  to  say  anything  more,"  he  had 
answered  uneasily.  "  I  am  glad  you  found  something 
you  like." 

"  Like !  "  Here  she  pressed  the  ring  to  her  lips. 
"  What  it  is  to  me !  Oh,  I  must  tell  you !  It  seems, 
in  a  strange  way,  as  if  he  had  given  it  to  me,  for  his 
dear  remembrance,  as  if  you  had  given  it  to  him — a 
tribute  to  one  who  was  your  friend." 

Sir  Reginald  winced.  This  string  so  constantly 
harped  upon,  of  his  friendship  for  the  late  Mr. 
Lancelot — well,  it  was  he  himself  who  had  first  struck 
it!  Now  the  fact  that  it  should  ring  increasingly 
false  was  not  made  the  more  endurable  by  the  knowl- 
edge that  he  had  only  himself  to  blame.  If  he  had 
spoken  some  twenty  condescending  words  to  the  lit- 


228        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

tie  official,  acknowledged  his  existence  when  they  met 
at  the  club  by  a  patronising  nod,  it  was  as  much  as 
had  ever  passed  between  them — such  miles  of  social 
interval  naturally  separated  the  military  magnate 
from  the  hard-working  civil  servant. 

But  Emerald  Fanny  had  continued,  with  piercing 
sweetness : 

"  I  won't  thank  you  then,  dear  friend  of  us  both, 
for  this  token  of  his  worth.  When  I  look  at  this 
ring,  I  shall  think  of  your  beautiful  friendship  and 
of  my  love — not  of  our  happy  days  together.  This 
is  an  emblem  of  mourning." 

Sir  Reginald  rose  from  his  seat  and  took  a  restless 
turn,  his  sensibility  stung  by  a  fresh  discomforting 
thought.  When  he  had  bidden  his  little  friend  go  to 
Holroyd  and  Rossiter,  and  choose  for  herself  some 
pretty  thing  (of  not  less  than  a  hundred  pounds) 
he  had  intended  to  make  a  substantial  offering  of 
gratitude.  Now  it  seemed  this  was  hardly  even  a 
present  to  her.  It  was  a  funeral  offering  to  the 
defunct — an  emblem  of  mourning  to  the  widow.  The 
ministering  angel  who  had  soothed  his  wracked  brow, 
whose  devoted  care  had  snatched  him  from  the  jaws 
of  death,  was  as  yet  unguerdoned.  She  had  received 
no  earnest  of  his  gratitude.  Upon  the  thought 
flashed  another,  its  natural  sequence. 

He  turned  and  came  quickly  towards  her. 

"  You  chose  for  yourself ;  now  I  want  you  to  let 
me  choose  for  you." 

She  looked  at  him  wonderingly,  the  tears  that  her 
emotion  had  gathered  to  her  great  eyes  still  dimming 


A    WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       229 

their  gaze.  He  took  her  hand;  his  tone  was  caress- 
ing— who  could  help  feeling  caressing  towards  so 
pretty  and  appealing  a  creature? 

"  I  want  to  give  you  something  to  remind  you  of 
me."  She  cooed  an  inarticulate  disclaimer.  "  Some- 
thing " — pathos  began  to  gain  on  him  as  he  spoke — 
"  to  help  you  not  quite  to  forget  the  fellow  whose 
worthless  existence  you  kept  from  extinction.  Some- 
thing that  will  make  you  say,  when  you  look  at  it: 
whatever  he  is,  he  is  not  ungrateful." 

"  Ah,"  she  murmured,  "  yes.  A  token — not  that 
I  need  it,  but  because  I  am  but  a  foolish  woman,  and 
I  should  like  a  token  from  you,  chosen  by  you,  to 
hold,  to  love — to  kiss.  The  veriest  trifle."  She 
smiled  archly  through  irrepressible  tears.  "  A  half- 
crown  safety-pin — a  silver  bangle,  just  with  your 
name  and  mine  upon  it " 

"  How,"  said  he  banteringly,  "  do  you  value  my 
life  at  a  silver  bangle  or  pin,  little  madame  ?  "  He 
was  beginning  to  enjoy  himself  again  in  her  com- 
pany. 

"  Your  life,  mon  preux!  Nay,  then  the  mines  of 
Golconda  would  not  reach  to  it."  The  words  broke 
passionately  from  her;  she  hung  her  head  as  if 
ashamed  of  the  feeling  that  rang  in  them.  Then, 
with  an  embarrassed  playfulness,  she  went  on: 

"  Whatever  you  give  me  I  shall  love ;  but  I  forbid 
you  to  go  to  Holroyd  and  Rossiter  for  it." 

"Why?"  he  asked,  peering  to  catch  a  sight  of 
the  blushes  on  the  averted  face,  singularly  grateful 
to  his  vanity. 


230       DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

"  Because,  sir,  if  you  must  be  curious,  I  won't  have 
you  spending  fortunes  on  me.  And  Holroyd  and 
Rossiter  have  got  a  collar,  studded  with  emeralds, 
which  they  are  flourishing  in  everybody's  face — now 
what  have  I  said?  Now,  Sir  Reginald,  I  forbid  you," 
she  lifted  and  shook  a  finger  at  him.  "  Mon  General, 
if  you  want  to  make  me  very,  very  angry — no,  no, 
I  will  have  no  present,  nothing  from  you,  but  a 
thought  now  and  again,  a  thought  of  your  little 
friend." 

She  laid  a  butterfly  touch  on  his  hand.  He  grasped 
her  fingers  only  to  relinquish  them  promptly  in  a 
spasm  of  realisation  and  self-reproach. 

It  was  then  that  he  had  made  up  his  mind — it  was 
time  to  put  a  full-stop  to  this !  The  very  pleasant- 
ness of  these  dangerous  dallyings  added  to  the  subse- 
quent distaste.  At  the  cost  of  some  sentimental  suf- 
fering and  what  was  evidently  to  be  a  considerable 
sum  of  money,  the  collar  studded  with  emeralds 
should  be  his  last  token  of  affection  to  the  woman 
who,  after  all,  understood  and  appreciated  him — who 
fascinated  him  too  much  still.  He  was  conscious  of 
some  rather  rueful  amusement  in  his  subsequent  re- 
flections. He  had  estimated  his  gratitude  at  a  hun- 
dred pounds ;  apparently  she  had  loftier  conceptions 
of  the  worth  of  the  virtue.  He  was  loth — nay,  he 
would  not  allow  himself — to  attribute  sordid  motives 
to  her;  yet  he  wondered  what  her  estimate  of  his 
worth  would  "  run  him  into." 

When  he  found  out,  it  fairly  staggered  him ;  and 
though  he  did  not  hesitate  to  purchase,  he  only  did 


A     WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       231 

so  because  of  his  very  determination  that  it  was  to  be 
the  end,  the  very  end. 

A  more  philosophic  man  might  be  excused  for  giv- 
ing way  to  temper  upon  returning  home  in  such  cir- 
cumstances. He  stamped  heavily  up  to  his  dressing- 
room,  and,  locking  the  door,  flung  himself  into  an 
armchair,  where  he  sat  in  a  kind  of  apathy  of  disgust. 
The  dressing-gong  rolling  through  the  house  roused 
him  to  a  curse,  but  no  more.  A  whisper  of  trailing 
skirts  halting  in  the  passage,  a  loud  tap  roused  him. 
He  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"Who's  there?" 

"  'Tis  I,  Reginald."  The  answer  was  in  his  wife's 
voice. 

"  I  can't  let  you  in  !  "  he  cried  irritably.  The  last 
thing  he  could  endure  was  a  tete-a-tete  now. 

"  It's  all  right,  dear.  I  don't  want  to  come  in. 
Only  just  to  tell  you  a  piece  of  good  news.  Your 
box  has  been  found  and  brought  home." 

"What!" 

He  remembered  afterwards,  blushing,  the  roar  with 
which  he  put  the  question. 

"  The  jewellery  you  lost — it  has  been  brought 
back.  I  have  got  it  quite  safely." 

The  trailing  skirts  passed  on.  Sir  Reginald  stood 
thunderstruck.  The  jewellery!  She  had  opened  the 
box.  She  had  examined  the  collar.  She  knew  whom 
it  was  for.  The  perspiration  beaded  on  his  fore- 
head. "  I  have  got  it  quite  safely.  .  .  ."  What 
did  she  mean  by  that?  What  did  she  think  of  him? 
What  could  she  be  thinking  of  him  now?  Her  voice 


DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

was  calm  and  sweet  as  usual.  But,  with  Gertrude, 
one  never  could  tell.  .  .  .  Perhaps  she  had  not 
seen  the  dedication,  perhaps  she  thought  the  magni- 
ficent gems  were  destined  for  herself?  How  horrible, 
when  she  should  discover.  ...  A  moment  he 
sought  dizzily  for  ways  and  means  to  avert  the  dis- 
covery, then  reason  swept  all  possibility  of  such  re- 
lief from  him.  He  remembered  what  grateful  pleas- 
ure she  had  shown  over  the  miserable  trinket  he  had 
brought  her  from  India.  She  would  never  have 
spoken  in  that  detached  voice  had  she  believed  the 
gift  to  be  for  herself. 

He  dressed  at  length,  and  went  down — some  time 
after  the  second  gong  had  sounded — with  a  stony 
composure.  He  blessed  the  presence  of  his  nephew, 
even  that  of  the  hateful  little  Coralie;  all  explana- 
tion must  be  postponed,  at  least  for  the  present. 
Yet,  when  he  entered  the  room,  a  certain  atmosphere 
of  mystery  and  solemnity  struck  him  with  instant 
misgiving.  Gertrude  had  departed  from  her  usual, 
almost  austere,  simplicity  of  garment ;  she  was  robed 
beautifully  and  looked  beautiful  in  white  satin. 
Round  the  fair  column  of  her  throat  she  wore  the 
pearls  which  had  been  his  wedding  gift.  He  halted 
a  second,  mentally  seeking  the  reason  of  this  gala 
attire,  when  she  looked  at  him  and  smiled.  And 
that  smile,  almost  consoling,  was  the  greatest  enigma 
of  all.  She  stood  beside  Mrs.  Lancelot,  who,  for 
some  reason  explicable  only  to  herself,  had  chosen 
to  don  the  garb  of  her  unrelieved  black.  In  con- 


A     WEEK'S     CHRONICLE 

trast  to  the  majestic  white  figure  the  widow  looked 
small,  insignificant,  almost  faded. 

The  thought  came  like  a  searing  flash  of  light- 
ning: Have  I  lost  that  woman  for  this  one? 

On  a  low  stool,  clasping  Mrs.  Lancelot's  pendent 
right  hand  and  playing  with  the  chains  of  the  mourn- 
ing ring,  sat  Norah;  and  Sir  Reginald,  less  able 
than  ever  to  endure  the  sight  of  their  affectionate 
ways,  turned  his  head  abruptly,  only  to  encounter 
the  gaze  of  Coralie — Coralie  with  blue  orbs,  unnatu- 
rally dark  in  her  pale  face,  staring  at  him  (as  he 
told  himself  irritably)  as  if  he  were  a  natural  curi- 
osity. And  to  fill  his  cup  of  annoyance  to  the  full, 
there  was  that  ass  of  a  Jamieson  markedly  avoiding 
his  eye. 

Dinner  had  been  announced  as  Sir  Reginald  en- 
tered ;  but  Gertrude  now  came  forward  and  took  an 
object  from  the  table,  with  the  words: 

"  One  moment,  before  we  go  in." 

Sir  Reginald  saw  that  it  was  the  jewel  case  she 
held  in  her  hands.  His  heart  seemed  to  stop,  while 
the  even  tones  proceeded: 

"  There  is  a  little  ceremony  to  be  gone  through." 

As  in  a  dream  the  unhappy  man  saw  his  wife  come 
up  to  him ;  felt  her  insert  a  hand  under  his  arm,  and 
lead  him  forward ;  heard  the  measured  voice  resume : 

"  Dear  Mrs.  Lancelot " — they  were  standing  be- 
fore the  widow — "  my  husband  and  I  ask  you  to 
accept  this  offering  in  token  of  our  united  gratitude 
for  all  that  we  owe  to  you." 

Gertrude   moved  her  hand   from   Sir  Reginald's 


DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

arm  as  she  spoke,  and  pressing  the  clasp,  displayed 
the  magnificent  sheen  of  the  gems  under  the  light. 

Sir  Reginald  heard  Coralie  gasp  hysterically  be- 
hind him ;  then  he  was  conscious  that  Emerald  Fanny, 
his  tender  friend,  his  petite  madame,  had  flung  on 
him  a  look  of  extraordinary  anger.  The  shock  was 
so  sudden  that  it  restored  him  to  his  senses. 

"  Oh,  Lady  Gertrude ! "  said  the  widow  after  a 
second's  pause.  Her  lids  were  cast  down  over  the 
tell-tale  eyes ;  her  accents  were  dulcet  as  ever.  "  I* 
don't  know  what  to  say,  I  am  overcome."  She  fal- 
tered coyly;  raised  her  eyes  again  and  the  tears 
were  there.  "  Oh,  dear  Lady  Gertrude,  oh,  Sir 
Reginald,  you  owe  me  nothing — nothing !  " 

"  You  will  let  me  fasten  it  round  your  throat," 
said  her  hostess,  gravely.  "  First,  I  must  show  you 
the  inscription;  just  your  name,  and  the  date,  the 
date  of  those  days  when  you  were  so  kind  and 
helpful." 

Her  glance  sought  her  husband's  as  she  spoke, 
with  a  kind,  warm,  reassuring  look.  He  drew  a 
deep  breath. 

Thank  God!     Gertrude  understood. 

She  was  still  speaking.     And  now  it  was  to  him : 

"  I  approve  of  what  you  have  chosen,  very  much, 
Reginald.  It  is  charming  and  artistic,  and  I'm  sure 
will  be  most  becoming.  But  I  have  one  suggestion 
to  make,  and  Mrs.  Lancelot  must  spare  us  the  collar 
some  time  for  a  few  days:  I  want  both  our  names 
added  to  the  inscription." 

Nothing  could  have  been  more  gracious  than  the 


A     WEEK'S     CHRONICLE 

tone  and  the  words ;  nothing  more  charming  than 
the  smile  that  accompanied  them ;  but  yet  there  was 
authority  behind  it  all — authority  and  an  incom- 
parable dignity.  Sir  Reginald  knew  that  he  had 
been  managed,  rebuked  and  saved,  all  at  the  same 
time ;  yet  could  find  nothing  in  his  heart  but  intense 
admiration  and  gratitude.  "  Gad,  she  is  a  glorious 
woman !  "  he  cried  to  himself ;  and,  upon  an  impulse, 
took  the  lovely  generous  hand  that  had  just  fastened 
his  present  round  a  rival's  neck  and  raised  it  to  his 
lips. 

"  Yes,  aren't  they  too,  too  beautiful ! "  cried 
Emerald  in  response  to  Norah's  enthusiastic  shrieks. 
Never  had  those  honeyed  notes  of  hers  rung  so 
shrilly. 

Sir  Reginald  coughed. 

"  I  guess  you're  missing  those  jujubes,"  insinu- 
ated Coralie  in  a  small  malicious  voice. 

"  Come,  come,"  interposed  Lady  Gertrude  briskly, 
"  lead  the  way,  Reginald.  Coralie,  I  have  no  better 
cavalier  for  you  to-night  than  Norah. — Ernest,  your 
arm." 

Norah  could  not  for  the  life  of  her  make  out  why 
Coralie  should  look  as  though  she  were  going  to  cry ; 
and  why,  when  they  were  crossing  the  hall,  she  should 
suddenly  pinch  fiercely  the  arm  she  was  holding  and 
whisper : 

"  If  you  should  ever  cause  that  splendid,  wonder- 
ful mother  of  yours  one  second's  pain,  you'd  de- 
serve  "  Norah  tossed  her  head  in  some  dudgeon 

head  attired  after  Emerald's  suggestion,  with 


elaborate  puffs  and  curls  that  altered  the  girlish 
face  scarcely  to  its  advantage. 

"  Oh,  Emerald,  darling,"  cried  Miss  Esdale,  effu- 
sively across  the  table  to  her  friend,  "  you're  too, 
too  lovely  with  that  collar !  " 

Sir  Reginald  frowned. 

"  I  wish  to  goodness,  Norah,"  he  exclaimed,  "  you 
would  drop  that  exuberant  manner  of  speech!  The 
adjective  lovely  is  quite  expressive  enough  by  itself." 

There  was  a  moment's  uncomfortable  pause,  dur- 
ing which  Coralie's  vindictive  soul  gave  a  jodel  of 
jubilation.  "  The  little  rift  within  the  lute  is  spread- 
ing apace,"  she  thought.  Then  Gertrude  spoke: 

"  Your  father  has  just  taught  you,  Norah,  how 
to  express  a  compliment." 

"  Sir  Reginald  is  always  too,  too  kind,"  said  Mrs. 
Lancelot,  low-voiced,  stealthily  fingering  each 
emerald. 

"  How  did  you  like  the  *  Merry  Widow  '  the  other 
night?  "  said  Coralie,  whose  spirits  were  reviving  by 
leaps  and  bounds. 

Emerald  started. 

"  Were  you  there  ?  "  Both  voice  and  look  were 
unwarily  sharp.  Then  she  felt  Sir  Reginald's  eye 
darkly  upon  her.  She  caught  up  her  role  hastily. 

"  The  long,  sad  hours  were  suddenly  quite,  quite 
intolerable  to  me,"  she  murmured  with  her  dove  moan. 
"  I  fled  from  my  loneliness  to  the  theatre,  only  to  find 
it  waiting  for  me  there." 

Her  misting  eyes,  seeking  sympathy  from  face  to 
face,  halted  suddenly,  unexpectedly,  at  Captain 


A    WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       237 

Jamieson.  He  had  not  been  in  the  least  able  to  fol- 
low events,  but  he  had  a  distinct  notion  that  the 
little  woman  was  being  persecuted  between  his  aunt 
and  his  wife ;  and  that  his  uncle  was  not  playing  the 
game,  somehow.  He  gazed  at  her  compassionately. 

"  London  is  terrible,  when  one  is  alone,"  she 
lamented. 

"  It's  a  devil  of  a  place,"  assented  he. 

Her  heart  swelled  with  an  acrid  triumph.  Her 
day  might  be  over  with  mon  preux — and  nobody 
could  be  quicker  to  feel  the  moment  of  waning  favour 
than  she— but  she  had  not  lost  her  power.  Why, 
she  could  have  this  simpleton  at  her  feet  as  soon  as 
she  chose,  in  spite  of  his  celebrated  devotion  to  his 
little  cat  of  a  wife.  Not  that  the  game  would  be 
worth  the  candle:  again  she  unconsciously  caressed 
her  emeralds. 

"  Norah,"  said  her  father,  as  the  girl  came  and 
perfunctorily  offered  her  cheek  for  the  good-night 
kiss,  "  since  when  has  it  become  the  fashion  for  chil- 
dren to  go  about  reeking  of  scent  like  a  hairdresser's 
shop?" 

Instantly  up  was  Norah's  head  flung,  with  its 
pert  toss  of  defiance. 

"  I'm  not  a  child  any  more,  please,  father ;  and  I 
think  my  scent's  very  nice."  She  was  about  to  add: 
"  It  is  Mrs.  Lancelot's,  if  you  want  to  know,"  when 
some  unwonted  instinct  of  discretion  restrained  her. 

"  Well,  you'll  have  the  kindness  to  wash  it  off," 
said  Sir  Reginald  shortly,  "  and  to  understand  that 


238       DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

I  don't  wish  you  to  put  it  on  any  more. — It's  a 
sickening  smell,"  he  added  in  an  outburst  to  which 
he  would  scarcely  have  given  way  had  not  Mrs. 
Lancelot  already  left  the  room.  But  the  latter's 
ears  were  sharp  and  the  General  spoke  loudly.  She 
paused,  her  foot  on  the  first  step  of  her  upward  way. 
There  was  no  witness  to  the  spasm  that  convulsed  her 
face — for  an  instant  a  small  medusa  mask  of  fury. 
Yet  when  she  bade  her  hostess  good-night  outside 
her  own  door,  she  was  able  to  smile  with  the  wonted 
honey-sweetness,  and  even  to  offer  an  appealing  kiss 
with  renewed  expression  of  gratitude. 

"  Aunt  G.,"  cried  Coralie,  "  how  could  you  kiss 
that  little  toad?" 

They  were  alone  together,  in  Gertrude's  great 
airy,  white  bedroom. 

"  My  dear,"  responded  Lady  Gertrude,  "  I  feel 
so  sorry  for  her." 

Coralie  remained  meditative  a  minute.  Lady  Ger- 
trude's tactics  that  evening  had  filled  her  with  sur- 
prise and  admiration.  The  mind  that  could  conceive 
them  seemed  to  her  at  once  lofty  and  relentless. 
Dimly,  she  began  to  understand  an  attitude  of 
thought  which  could  enable  the  wife  to  kiss  without 
resentment  the  woman  who  had  tried  to  rob  her  of 
her  husband. 

"  You've  just  about  conquered  too  completely  to 
feel  anything  but  a  sort  of  pity  for  your  enemy," 
she  remarked  musingly  at  last.  "  Grandma  may  as 
well  think  of  sending  to  the  bank  for  that  tiara." 


A    WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       239 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  am  sure  of  it  yet,"  said 
the  other,  smiling,  with  that  frankness  which  was  so 
strange  a  concomitant  to  a  very  reserved  character. 
"  There's  my  poor  little  Norah  to  win  back,  too. — I 
wish  I  had  sent  the  child  to  mamma." 

"  Why,  Aunt  G.,  I  believe  it  was  just  Norah  that 
fixed  Uncle  Reginald;  when  he  saw  Emerald  Fanny 
mirrored  in  his  own  child  it  fairly  opened  his  eyes." 

"  But  I  never  thought  of  making  use  of  the  child. 
I  had  no  right  to  make  use  of  the  child." 

The  mother's  face  took  an  expression  of  trouble, 
almost  of  pain.  Coralie  flung  herself  into  her  arms. 

"  Darling  Aunt  G.  Never  fear — I'll  help  you 
with  Norah.  It's  only  a  passing  fit  of  schoolgirl 
nonsense  at  the  worst."  Then,  holding  the  tall 
woman  embraced,  she  whispered  in  her  ears :  "  I 
hope  you  don't  just  despise  me  for  what  I  did  to- 
day. I'm  not  going  ever  to  tell  Ernest — now  mind 
that!" 

"  How  could  your  accomplice  despise  you?  "  said 
Gertrude.  Then  she  pressed  her  lips  to  the  small, 
flushed  face,  murmuring :  "  It  is  good  to  kiss  such 
an  honest  little  bit  of  nature  as  you  are." 

Emerald  Fanny  showed  no  disposition  to-night  to 
keep  Norah,  her  young  worshipper,  lingering  long 
in  her  room,  after  the  custom  which  had  grown  up 
between  them.  It  even  might  be  said  that  she  dis- 
missed her — but  with  such  loving  words  as  to  obviate 
anything  approaching  to  offence. 

"  My  darling,  I  must  be  alone  to-night.     I  am 


sad.  No,  not  even  you — not  even  you,  beloved,  can 
I  admit  to  this  hour.  I  would  not  sadden  your  ex- 
quisite brightness.  May  you  never  know  such  an 
hour  of  woman's  struggle,  of  soul  desolation,  of  heart 
abandonment!  Alone  I  must  go  through  it." 

She  held  Norah's  face  between  her  two  hands  and 
looked  solemnly,  profoundly,  into  her  eyes.  Then 
she  deposited  a  kiss  of  almost  sacramental  solemnity 
upon  the  girl's  brow. 

"  Good-night,  my  beautiful  Norah.  Good-night, 
my  comfort." 

Norah  went  slowly  to  her  room,  in  a  whirl  of  be- 
wilderment and  ardent  affection.  The  mystery  of 
Emerald's  air  and  words  excited  her  imagination  to 
the  utmost.  She  felt  that  her  friend  had  been  in- 
jured in  some  cryptic  manner  and  was  suffering  in 
the  depths  of  a  soul  that  was  all  poetry,  refinement 
and  nobility.  "  Could  Emerald  have  heard  father's 
beastly  remark  about  the  scent  ?  "  the  child  asked 
herself  angrily.  Though  the  reason  seemed  scarcely 
adequate  for  such  an  exalted  state  of  misery,  her 
Emerald  was  over-sensitive  for  every-day  life.  On 
the  other  hand,  her  mother  had  been  very  kind  over 
the  jewels. 

"  But  there,  she  likes  father  best,"  argued  the 
child  sagely. 

Then  illumination  came  to  her:  Emerald  was  that 
pathetic  and  wonderful  thing,  a  widow  recently  be- 
reaved. This  was  a  phase  of  her  inevitable  woe. 
To  Norah,  on  the  threshold  of  life,  her  friend  seemed 
surrounded  with  a  double  halo ;  she  was  consecrated 


A    WEEK'S     CHRONICLE 

by  love  and  sorrow,  a  priestess  of  mysteries,  hidden 
as  yet  to  her  innocence.  "  May  you  never  know  such 
an  hour  of  soul  desolation !  "  The  words  rang  again 
in  the  girl's  ears,  as  she  sat  by  her  open  window, 
gazing  dreamily  out  into  the  garden ;  rang  with 
their  sweet  stabbing  note  of  pathos.  She  suddenly 
thought  of  Enniscorthy — Enn — whom  she  had  not 
seen  for  six  days ;  who  had  been  so  odd  and  off-hand 
and  indifferent  that  night  he  dined ;  who  had  not 
answered  her  letter  nor  made  the  smallest  effort  to 
see  her  again!  Was  she,  too,  to  know,  after  all, 
the  woman's  struggle,  the  heart  abandonment? 
Worse  fate  than  her  friend's,  was  she  to  lose  without 
even  the  certitude  of  having  been  loved?  In  her 
mind's  eye  she  saw  the  widow  on  her  knees  before 
that  portrait  of  "  him  "  which  stood  beside  her  bed, 
her  hands  clasped  and  uplifted,  tears  streaming  down 
her  pale  cheeks.  Flung  from  her  lay  the  jewels, 
mocking  her  mourning  with  their  colour  and  radi- 
ance, her  heart's  poverty  with  their  richness.  What 
were  such  baubles  to  a  soul  bereaved !  Norah  began 
to  understand,  through  her  own  sense  of  misery,  her 
friend's  frame  of  mind.  Tears  of  pity  for  herself 
began  to  trickle  luxuriously  down  her  cheeks.  She, 
too,  felt  the  worthlessness  of  everything  in  life,  fail- 
ing the  one  supreme  good. 

Could  she  but  have  seen  the  widow  at  that  moment ! 
The  electric  lamp  pulled  low  upon  the  dressing- 
table,  to  concentrate  its  full  light  upon  the  object 
she  held,  Mrs.  Lancelot  was  examining,  clasp  by 
clasp,  almost  link  by  link,  the  stones  of  the  collar. 


DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

Its  price  she  was  aware  of — one  thousand,  four 
hundred  pounds.  To  her,  as  an  asset  of  fortune, 
she  might  look  upon  it  as  worth  about  seven  or  eight 
hundred  pounds.  With  her  ring  and  her  brooch, 
say  a  thousand  pounds  ready  cash.  Add  her  widow's 
pension  of  three  hundred  pounds,  there  was  all  she 
had  to  reckon  on  for  her  new  start  in  life.  She  had 
come  to  a  new  start  in  life,  of  that  she  had  no 
doubt. 

A  bitter  smile  twisted  her  lips  as  she  made  a  rapid 
calculation  of  what  mon  preux's  friendship  had  been 
worth  to  her.  She  had,  of  late,  lived  practically 
at  the  rate  of  his  own  income.  She  thought  of  her 
little  flat  overhanging  the  Park,  and  cursed  her  folly 
in  accepting  the  invitation  to  Windsor.  "  If  that 
man  wasn't  such  a  fool,"  she  muttered  mentally, 
"  he'd  have  warned  me  it  was  a  trap. — Oh,  that 
hateful,  designing  woman ! "  If  it  had  not  been 
for  Lady  Gertrude,  she  might  still  reign  queen  over 
her  husband's  heart,  still  return  in  comfort,  appre- 
ciation and  sympathy  the  more  substantial  benefits 
it  was  his  pleasure  to  lavish  upon  her. 

Why — it  might  have  gone  on  and  on,  she  thought, 
with  a  groan  of  mingled  exasperation  and  lament; 
on  to  a  final  triumph,  over  which  even  she  had  hith- 
erto hardly  ever  allowed  her  thoughts  to  hover  till 
to-night.  But  to-night  she  told  herself  boldly  that 
such  things  had  been,  and  were  every  day — every 
day  now  with  increasing  facility  and  fewer  penalties. 
She  had  been  blind ;  all  this  past  week  inconceivably 
blind!  Sir  Reginald's  capricious  moodiness,  his  airs 


A     WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       243 

of  trouble,  his  occasional  avoidance  of  her,  she  had 
chosen  to  regard  as  signs  of  his  passion,  suffering 
and  impatient  of  the  thralls  that  circumstances  im- 
posed. Whereas  the  base  wretch,  with  the  utter 
selfishness  of  his  sex,  was  merely  sickening  of  one 
who,  after  having  been  his  help  and  inspiration,  had 
suddenly  become  a  cause  of  discomfort.  She  ought 
to  have  put  miles  between  herself  and  his  wife;  the 
while  she  had  had  the  folly  to  believe  that  the  juxta- 
position increased  her  value. — Well,  it  was  done! 
She  could  deceive  herself  no  longer ;  the  moment  when 
their  eyes  had  met  over  the  gift  had  been  a  revela- 
tion. She  had  read  in  his  glance,  revolt,  aversion, 
even  disgust. 

"  I  suppose  I  dished  myself  with  the  price  of  the 
emeralds,"  she  thought  cynically,  "  and  that  was  his 
silly  revenge,  making  his  wife  give  them  to  me ! " 

She  turned  over  the  collar,  to  examine  the  writing 
on  the  clasp.  Lady  Gertrude  had  thought  it  a  very 
subtle  snub,  no  doubt,  to  say  that  she  would  have  her 
own  name  and  Sir  Reginald's  added.  As  matters 
turned  out  it  would  suit  Mrs.  Lancelot's  book  very 
well,  and  she  would  not  let  that  promise  remain 
abortive :  "  The  present  that  dear  Lady  Gertrude 
and  her  husband  gave  me ! "  would  fit  a  great  deal 
better  into  her  new  landscape  than  the  illicit  offering 
of  an  admirer,  however  distinguished.  For  Emerald 
Fanny,  her  thin  fingers  clutching  the  emeralds,  was 
quite  certain  she  could  never  let  them  go  again. 
Fortunately  she  need  not  be  cast  adrift  upon  the 
cruel  world — other  people  were  capable  of  an  attach- 


DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

ment  more  honest  or  more  faithful  than  that  of  her 
late  preux. 

There  was  a  letter  she  must  write  at  once.  As 
she  opened  the  blotter  and  addressed  herself  to  her 
task,  her  mind  was  busy  upon  further  resolutions. 
Perhaps  they  expected  her  to  take  her  departure  to- 
morrow, now  that  she  had  been  paid  off — with  a  dog- 
collar!  She  would  do  no  such  thing.  She  had  too 
much  sense  of  her  own  dignity  to  allow  herself  to  be 
so  treated.  And  there  was  little  Norah.  Insensi- 
bly Emerald's  mind,  which  in  the  fierce  light  of  her 
anger  had  been  working  with  an  unwonted  frank- 
ness, began  to  glide  back  into  those  delicate  and  con- 
cealing shadows  with  which  the  most  interested  prefer 
to  veil  their  motives  and  their  projects,  even  to  them- 
selves. Norah  was  devoted  to  her.  The  child 
wanted  help,  she  would  not  abandon  her  at  the  very 
moment  when  her  poor  little  love  affairs  were  in 
such  a  bad  way. 

Norah  had  not  been  half-hearted  in  her  confi- 
dence ;  she  had  laid  bare  every  fold  of  her  soul  to  her 
new  friend. 

"  If  I  could  facilitate  matters  for  the  lovers," 
sighed  the  widow  sentimentally,  "  the  memory  of  this 
visit  will  not  be  all  pain."  And,  underneath,  hid- 
den away  in  the  shadow,  was  the  unavowed  but 
prompting  thought :  "  To  have  brought  together 
young  Lord  and  Lady  Enniscorthy  would  be  no  bad 
starting-point  for  the  social  climb." 

Now  she  began  to  write,  rapidly  at  first,  then  with 
some  pauses  for  reflection.  The  letter  began :  "  Dear 


A    WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       245 

Cousin  John,"  and  ended:  "  Your  lonely  little  cousin, 
Emily." 

Mrs.  Lancelot's  caligraphy  was  large  and  bold; 
there  was  no  mistaking  the  signature ;  it  was — Emily. 
She  reread  the  document  with  a  quiet,  business  air^ 
seemed  satisfied  with  its  contents,  and  proceeded  to 
seal  it.  The  envelope  soon  bore  the  superscription: 

"  John  MacCracken,  Esq., 
"  Beaconsfield  Lodge, 

"Paisley,  N.  B." 


IX 

THE  door  between  the  orangery — which  gave  its 
name  to  the  house — and  the  inner  drawing-room  was 
open,  a  fact  Coralie  was  not  aware  of  until  the  sound 
of  voices  reached  her  in  her  retreat  among  the  fra- 
grant trees.  She  had  discovered  this  haven  with 
all  the  joy  of  the  Southerner  finding  a  bit  of  home 
in  a  far-off  land.  The  breath  of  the  blossoms,  the 
warmth  of  the  atmosphere,  the  feeling  of  the  rocking- 
chair  under  her  lissom  body,  of  the  tiles  under  her 
feet,  brought  her  back  to  her  childhood  and  its 
early  surroundings,  with  a  rush  of  that  joy  tinged 
with  pathos  with  which  a  happy  woman  can  afford 
to  look  back  upon  her  happy  past.  In  lazy  luxuri- 
ance she  rocked  herself  and  dreamed,  a  smile  on  her 
lip,  and  almost,  but  not  quite,  a  tear  in  her  eye. 

"  My !  those  were  good  days,  too,"  she  said  to  her- 
self. "  I'll  have  to  make  Ernest  take  me  back  to  the 
old  folk  before  long." 

Then,  instead  of  the  past,  she  began  to  consider  the 
future. — How  her  mother  would  look  when  she  saw 
her  child  again;  and  how  proud  the  child  would  be 
to  show  the  mother  to  the  husband  .  .  .!  If 
ever  there  was  a  lovely  woman Into  this  agree- 
able day-dream  certain  voices  penetrated.  At  first 
vaguely,  then  so  insistently,  almost  disagreeably, 
that  Coralie  ceased  rocking  herself  to  listen.  Those 

246 


A    WEEK'S     CHRONICLE 

were  Norah's  tones,  uplifted,  shrill,  furiously  com- 
plaining. 

Good  heavens !  the  girl  crying !  And  the 
other  voice — that  sweet,  false,  insinuating  note — 
well  she  ought  to  know  it  by  this  time ;  how  many 
an  hour  it  had  exasperated  her  almost  beyond  en- 
durance during  the  last  year  .  .  . !  What  mis- 
chief was  Emerald  Fanny  concocting  now? 

"  I'm  going  to  listen,"  said  Coralie  determinedly 
to  herself,  clenching  her  hand.  "  I  stole  on  the 
highway  yesterday,  I'm  not  going  to  be  squeamish 
about  a  trifle  of  eavesdropping  to-day.  Everyone 
sees  his  duty  in  his  own  way.  I  hope  I  know  mine 
when  I  meet  it." 

So,  virtuously,  she  listened. 

"  I  won't  stand  it ! "  Norah  was  sobbing. 
"  Mamma  has  no  right  to  interfere  with  my  life. 
I  know  she  said  something  to  Enn  in  order  to  put 
him  off  coming  any  more.  He  used  to  be  always 
dead  keen  on  having  me  with  him." 

"  I'm  sure  he  was,"  insinuated  the  sweet  voice. 

"  He  did  care  for  me,"  the  passionate  complaint 
proceeded.  "  Why,  he  would  hardly  let  a  day  pass 
without  coming  up  on  some  pretext  or  other,  or 
writing,  or  'phoning.  He  did  care  for  me." 

"  Indeed  he  was  watching  you  with  his  eyes  the 
whole  time.  I  saw  him,  little  Norah,  that  first 
night." 

"  And  mamma  is  going  to  spoil  all ;  to  break  my 
heart  and  ruin  my  life!  Mamma  always  wants  to 
manage  everybody.  She  said  she  wouldn't  have  me 


248       DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

going  out  with  him  any  more;  that  I  was  too  old 
for  that  sort  of  thing  .  .  .  And  in  the  same 
breath  she  tells  me  that  I'm  a  schoolgirl.  I  feel  sure 
she  said  something  beastly  to  him  and  hurt  his  feel- 
ings. Enn  has  got  those  kinds  of  feelings." 

"  Oh,  it  would  be  such  a  pity,"  sighed  the  widow. 
"  People  do  make  such  dreadful  mischief  without 
meaning  it !  If  mothers  would  only  understand  that 
their  daughters  grow  up ! "  Emerald's  voice  took 
an  even  more  delicate  silkiness.  "  You  must  try 
and  make  allowances  for  your  dear  mother,  darling. 
It  is  hard  on  a  young-looking  and  handsome  woman 
to  have  a  grown-up  daughter." 

"  Oh,  the  cat,  the  cat !  "  cried  Coralie  to  herself, 
in  burning  indignation,  and  almost  burst  from  her 
eavesdropping  seclusion  to  fulminate  the  mischief- 
maker.  But  she  restrained  herself ;  she  waited  for 
Norah's  outcry.  Surely  the  girl,  however  deep  un- 
der the  spell  of  the  flatterer,  would  rebuke  this  slan- 
derer as  she  deserved. 

But  Norah's  answer  was  delayed.  Coralie  could 
hear  her  blowing  her  nose  and  sniffing.  And  when 
it  came  it  was  anything  but  satisfactory  to  the 
listener's  conception  of  loyalty. 

"  I  don't  think  it's  that,"  the  injured  young 
lady  was  remarking  sullenly.  "  I  don't  think  mamma 
is  that  sort  of  woman." 

"  My  dear  " — Mrs.  Lancelot's  tone  was  arch — 
"  she  might  very  well  not  want  to  be  a  grandmother 
yet." 

"  No,"  cried  Norah,  "  no,  that's  not  mamma's 


A    WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       249 

way ! "  There  was  a  pettish  stamp  of  her  foot. 
"  That's  not  mamma's  way  a  bit.  I  declare  if  that 
were  her  reason  there  would  be  some  sense  in  it.  I 
could  understand  it.  But  mamma  has  never  hardly 
let  me  have  a  thought  of  my  own  since  I  was  born. 
She's  watched,  and  watched,  and  watched  me.  She 
thinks  she'll  manage  my  whole  life.  But  I'll  not 
stand  it!  She  has  never  understood  me,  never.  No 
one  has  ever  understood  me,  except  Enn."  An  angry 
sob  caught  the  word. 

"  And  your  Emerald !  " 

"  Oh,  yes.     Yes,  you  do,  Emerald." 

"Alas !  "  chanted  the  widow,  "  how  very,  very  often 
mothers  who  love  their  children  best,  least  under- 
stand them !  I  often  think  " — the  sound  of  tears 
trickled  into  the  musical  accents — "  that  if  I  had 
only  had  a  little  child  how  different  my  life  would 
be ;  how  I  should  pray  to  do  right  by  it,  to  be  guided ! 
How  I  should  subordinate  my  every  thought  and 
wish!  A  child's  individuality  is  such  a  precious, 
precious  thing!  Oh,  Norah,  if  a  child  of  mine  had 
wept  tears  like  yours  through  my  fault,  I  should 
never  forgive  myself — I  think  my  heart  would  be 
broken ! " 

Norah  seemed  to  be  less  amenable  than  usual  to 
her  friend's  pathos,  for  all  the  response  this  affecting 
speech  produced  was  the  peevish  remark: 

"  Meanwhile,  it's  my  heart  that's  broken." 

"  Norah  is  becoming  an  odious  young  female," 
thought  Coralie,  "  and  the  sooner  Gertrude  bundles 
out  the  widow,  the  better  it  will  be," 


850       DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

Yet  she  could  not  help  feeling  a  sneaking  pity 
for  the  girl.  If  it  were  true  that  Gertrude  had  ban- 
ished Enniscorthy  because  of  her  daughter's  youth, 
while  the  boy  and  girl  really  cared  for  each  other, 
it  was  a  little  hard  on  them ;  and,  as  the  American 
shrewdly  told  herself,  something  of  a  mistake  be- 
sides. The  child  ought  to  have  her  chance.  As 
Mrs.  Jamieson  mused,  she  was  startled  to  hear 
Emerald  Lancelot  put  the  very  idea  into  words. 

"  You  shan't  break  your  heart,  my  darling ;  you 
shall  have  your  chance.  You  shall  speak  with  your 
Enn,  this  very  day,  this  very  moment." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  The  girl's  voice  rang 
out,  eager,  through  a  certain  note  of  doubt. 

"  What's  his  'phone  number  ?  " 

"  Three  six,  Windsor.  But  what  are  you  going 
to  do?" 

"  Oh,  let  me  manage  for  you,  my  beloved  child ! " 

"  Emerald,  you  don't  know  him  well  enough  to 
ring  him  up.  And  I — I  couldn't.  He  never  an- 
swered my  letter." 

"My  darling,  cannot  you  trust  me?" 

Coralie  drew  a  few  steps  nearer  the  drawing-room 
door,  that  she  might  peep  as  well  as  listen.  This 
was  becoming  extremely  exciting. 

She  heard  the  click  of  the  telephone,  and  then 
Emerald  deliver  herself  with  precision :  "  Is  this  the 
Cavalry  Barracks? — Is  Lord  Enniscorthy  in? — Will 
you  kindly  tell  him  to  come  and  speak  to  me? — Oh, 

is  that  you,  Lord  Enniscorthy?  No "  with  a 

return  of  dulcet  archness,  "  I  need  not  give  you  my 


A    WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       251 

name.  I'm  speaking  for  Norah  Esdale.  You  rang 
her  up  a  little  while  ago,  didn't  you? — Hold  on." 

Emerald  here  apparently  left  the  telephone,  and 
Coralie  rejoiced  at  the  sound  of  Norah's  furious 
protest :  "  Emerald,  what  have  you  done ! — How 
could  you  ? — How  could  you  ?  " — Then  came  the 
other's  voice  again :  "  Oh,  don't  be  a  goose !  Take 
your  chance,  quick,  quick ! "  responded  the  artful 
widow,  giggling  softly.  And  before  the  eavesdrop- 
per, outraged  in  every  instinct  of  good  taste,  had 
time  to  interfere,  Norah  was  already  at  the  tele- 
phone, unable  to  resist  the  double  pressure  of  her 
friend's  urging  and  her  own  undisciplined  desire. 

"Are  you  there,  Enn?— What ?"  The  re- 
ceiver dropped  from  her  hand — "  He  says  he  didn't 
ring  me  up.  He's  horrid,  cross!  Oh,  what  have 
you  done?  " 

Here  both  caught  sight  of  Coralie.  And  while 
Emerald,  paling,  strove  to  keep  up  an  ingratiating 
smile,  Norah  burst  into  loud  and  angry  sobs. 

"  Oh,  hush !  My  goodness  !  "  cried  the  American. 
"  Norah,  you're  just  about  fit  for  a  nursery  cot. 
And,  as  for  you,  Mrs.  Lancelot " — she  had  hardly 
ever  felt  so  furious — "  I  think  Providence  knew 
what  He  was  doing  when  He  refrained  from  sending 
you  that  child.  Oh,  here,  don't  speak  to  me!  I 
must  put  this  straight — if  you'll  only  stop  howling, 
Norah. — What's  the  creature's  number  ?  " 

She  snapped  her  fingers  imperiously  in  Mrs.  Lance- 
lot's direction.  The  widow,  too  offended  to  reply, 
turned  away  with  an  air  of  dignity  that  failed  la- 


DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

mentably  in  its  effect ;  while  Norah,  choking  back  her 
sobs,  gasped  out  the  required  direction,  with  the 
piteous  supplement : 

"Oh,  Coralie,  don't  let  him  think "  a  fresh 

sob  shook  her,  and  she  caught  her  lip  with  her 
teeth.  Shaken  with  gusty  breaths,  trembling  and 
clutching  a  chair  to  support  herself,  she  strained 
for  composure  during  her  cousin's  efforts  to  set 
straight  the  tangle.  Effort,  indeed,  is  no  apt  word 
to  describe  Mrs.  Jamieson's  smooth  guidance  of  af- 
fairs. In  a  good  cause,  as  Coralie  had  already 
shown,  she  could  dissemble  without  the  smallest  pang 
of  conscience  and  with  the  most  complete  inventive 


ease. 

M 


Is  that  Lord  Enniscorthy? — I'm  Coralie  Jamie- 
son.  Oh "  the  pretty  laugh  rippled  out, 

"  there's  been  such  a  muddle !  This  is  what  comes 
of  sending  messages.  I  asked  Norah  to  ring  you 
up,  to  find  out  whether  my  Ernest  had  been  at  the 
mess  this  morning.  And  the  poor  stupid  dears  here 
took  it  into  their  heads  that  you  were  ringing  up 
Norah." 

The  way  she  glided  over  the  difficulty,  the  charm- 
ing ingenuousness  with  which  falsehood  flowed  from 
her,  would  have  convinced  a  more  suspicious  soul 
than  that  of  Lord  Enniscorthy. 

"  So  sorry  to  bother  you,"  went  on  the  purring 
accents.  "My  old  bear  isn't  there,  you  say? — Oh, 
dear,  dear,  drat  the  man! — Didn't  you  expect  him? 
He  certainly  said  he  was  going  to  meet  you. — If  he 
does  turn  up,  will  you  tell  him  I  want  him  back, 


A     WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       253 

most  particularly.  You  won't  forget,  will  you? — 
Aunt  Jane's  coming  to  lunch." 

Brilliantly  the  thought  struck  her  of  how  she 
could  make  use  of  this  simple  fact  in  her  tissue  of 
taradiddles. 

"  He's  been  too  perfectly  disgraceful  to  her.  I 
simply  won't  have  him  run  away  again.  You  prom- 
ise to  tell  him?  Thanks.  Thank  you  so  much. — 
Good-bye.  Why  have  you  never  been  over  to  see  us? 
— What?  It's  really  quite  unkind  to  us?  Won't 
you  come  before  we  leave — come  to-day? — What? 
On  duty?  I  don't  believe  it!  You're  as  bad  as 
Ernest.  You  are  just  fighting  shy  of  Aunt 
Jane." 

She  gurgled  musically  into  the  receiver,  and  with 
a  final  "  Good-bye  "  hooked  it  up. 

Coralie  then  turned  round  and  faced  her  cousin. 
For  a  moment  or  two  they  looked  at  each  other. 
All  the  gentle  mirth  that  had  irradiated  her  counte- 
ance  while  manipulating  the  telephone  gave  place 
to  an  air  of  great  severity;  which,  however  (so  ill 
were  Mrs.  Jamieson's  features  adapted  to  such  senti- 
ment) only  succeeded  in  producing  in  her  an  ex- 
pression somewhat  similar  to  that  of  an  angry  kit- 
ten. The  girl,  with  heaving  breast,  had  passed  from 
stormy  tears  to  outward  sullenness.  Her  heart  was 
aching  afresh: 

"  He  won't  come.  He's  on  duty ;  always  on  duty. 
He  never  used  to  be !  " 

The  humiliation,  the  sore  defeat,  swallowed  up  all 
sense  of  gratitude  for  her  saved  pride. 


254        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

"  Now,"  said  Coralie  at  last,  "  I  hope  this  will 
be  a  lesson  to  you,  and  that  you  will  give  up  listening 
to  that  hateful  second-rate  little  woman — that  dis- 
gusting, deceitful  creature ! " 

Norah's  head  went  up  with  a  jerk. 

"  That  second-rate  little  woman,  as  you  call  her, 
is  mamma's  guest.  And  as  for  deceit  ...  I 
should  like  to  know  how  many  lies  you  told  just 
now,  with  Cousin  Ernest  sitting  this  blessed  moment 
in  the  smoking-room !  " 

"  Well  .  .  .  you  are  an  ungrateful  little 
toad!  Get  yourself  out  of  your  own  scrapes,  by 
yourself,  next  time ! "  cried  Coralie,  with  the  indig- 
nation of  one  whose  best  actions  are  misrepresented. 
"  Though,  indeed,  after  the  way  you  speak  of  your 
mother " 

"  So  you  were  listening !  "  interrupted  Norah,  with 
withering  scorn. 

"  My  dear,  considering  you  were  yelling  at  the 
top  of  your  voice,"  began  Coralie.  Then  she  broke 
off.  It  struck  her  that,  although  very  natural  and 
a  relief  to  the  feelings,  this  display  of  temper  was 
not  wise.  Norah  was  not  a  character  that  one 
could  drive;  and  with  the  echoes  of  Mrs.  Lancelot's 
flattery  still  ringing  in  her  ears,  it  was  scarcely 
straight-speaking  that  would  prevail. 

"  Well,  if  you'll  take  my  advice,"  she  said  more 
gently,  "  you'll  not  let  your  Emerald  Fanny  act 
intermediary  for  you  any  more  with  Enniscorthy." 

"  I  don't  want  her  to.  I  don't  want  to  see  him 
again  ever ;  I  don't  want  to  hear  his  name ! " 


A     WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       255 

Thus  Norah  flared;  but,  unfortunately  for  her 
self-respect,  one  of  those  sobs  she  had  forced  back 
with  such  energy  broke  bounds  uncontrollably  once 
more.  With  a  look  at  her  cousin  as  if  she  could 
have  slain  the  witness  of  her  humiliation,  she  burst 
out  of  the  room  into  the  conservatory ;  and  a  moment 
later  Coralie  saw  her  tearing  across  the  lawn,  like 
a  wild  thing,  towards  the  shelter  of  the  woods. 

Coralie  sat  down  and,  supporting  her  little  pointed 
chin  in  the  palm  of  her  hand,  gave  herself  up  to  deep 
reflection.  Once  or  twice  she  shook  her  head,  once 
or  twice  nibbled  her  small  finger.  The  problem  pre- 
sented difficulties  whichever  way  she  looked  at  it. 
Indeed,  she  seemed  to  be  able  to  come  to  no  satis- 
factory conclusion. 

"  If  I  only  knew  whether  or  not  the  boy  cares  for 
her  .  .  .  ?  "  Presently  she  was  struck  by  an 
idea.  Norah  was  safe  in  the  woods  with  her  love 
sorrow,  poor  little  girl — it  was  lesson  time — the 
moment  was  a  good  one  for  pumping  Fraulein. 

As  she  knocked  at  the  schoolroom  door  she  was 
met  by  the  governess  in  the  very  act  of  emerging, 
tying  the  brown  silk  strings  of  her  flat  mushroom 
hat  under  her  chin  as  she  went. 

"  Oh,  Fraulein !  '*  cried  Coralie,  with  her  arching 
smile  and  her  harmless  mendacity,  "  I  thought  I'd 
find  Norah." 

"  Ach,  no !  "  cried  Trottsky,  "  the  child  is  not  here. 
Excuse  me,  Mrs.  Jamieson,  I  have  just  seen  her  from 
the  window.  I  must  after  her." 


DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

"Don't,"  said  Coralie.  "It's  a  lovely  day. 
Can't  you  give  her  an  hour  off  lessons  ?  " 

The  little  German  hesitated  and  surveyed  her  visi- 
tor. The  small,  kind,  tired  eyes  were  full  of  concern ; 
the  knobby  hands  gave  the  bow  under  her  chin  a 
nervous  tweak. 

"  Ach,  Mrs.  Jamieson — "  she  began.  Then  discre- 
tion superseded  her  impulse  of  confidence,  and  she 
continued  meekly :  "  Lady  Gertrude  does  not  ap- 
prove of  the  child  running  alone  in  the  woods.  It  is 
lesson  hour,  excuse  me." 

Coralie  saw  that  to  come  to  the  point  was  here 
the  best  diplomacy. 

"  Do  you  know,  Fraulein,"  she  said,  with  that 
smile  and  undulation  which  so  few  could  resist,  "  if 
I  were  you  I  would  not  go  after  Norah,  just  now — 

I  saw  her  running  into  the  wood  too "  Coralie's 

candour  in  disposing  of  her  own  inventions  had  a  way 
of  robbing  them  of  any  importance — "  and  I  rather 
think  she  was  crying." 

"  Ach,  my  poor  little  one !  "  cried  Fraulein,  clasp- 
ing her  hands. 

"  And  so,"  pursued  the  little  American,  "  I  redly 
came  to  have  a  little  chat  with  you  about  her — I 
don't  want  to  worry  her  mother,  you  know,"  blinked 
Coralie ;  "  and  next  to  her  mother,  Fraulein,  I  feel 
you  are  her  best  friend." 

Fraulein  Trautmann,  who,  except  on  the  subject 
of  her  own  health,  was  an  optimist,  had  a  favourite 
aphorism,  which  was :  "  Edle  Seelen  verstehen  sich — 
noble  souls  understand  each  other."  In  a  fairly 


A    WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       257 

long  life,  exposed  to  the  least  agreeable  side  of 
human  nature,  she  had  never  found  any  reason  for 
doubt  in  this  article  of  faith.  And  now,  after  an- 
other look  at  her  visitor,  she  was  convinced  that 
here  was  one  more  proof  of  it. 

"  Indeed,"  she  said,  eagerly  drawing  a  chair  for 
Mrs.  Jamieson  and  plunging  instantly  into  the  very 
heart  of  her  troubles,  "  if  Norah,  poor  child,  knew 
her  true  friends.  .  .  ." 

Coralie  leaped  to  the  inference: 

"  Head's  just  turned  by  flattery,"  she  agreed. 

"  Mrs.  Chamieson,"  said  Trautmann,  "  that  is  a 
false  woman — ein  falsches  Weib!  That  is  no  com- 
panion for  the  child." 

"  Well,  she'll  never  come  back  here  once  she's 
gone,  that's  a  comfort." 

"  Ah,  but  the  child  is  changed — schrecklich  veran- 
dert!  " 

Thus  elliptically  they  had  proceeded  in  thorough 
harmony.  But  Mrs.  Jamieson  had  not  sought  the 
schoolroom  to  discuss  Emerald  Fanny.  She  had  a 
more  delicate  matter  to  approach;  this  was  her 
opening. 

"  Norah  is  certainly  changed,"  she  said,  "  but 
isn't  there  something  besides  Mrs.  Lancelot's  influ- 
ence at  the  bottom  of  it,  Fraulein  ?  I  told  you  Norah 
was  crying.  I  don't  think  the  child  is  happy." 

Fraulein  folded  her  wide  mouth  into  a  thin  line 
and  wagged  her  head  from  side  to  side: 

"  You  have  right,  Mrs.  Chamieson,"  she  said. 
Then  she  compressed  her  lips  again  and  looked  cryp- 


258       DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

tic ;  but  it  would  have  required  a  stiff er  reserve  than 
that  of  the  little  Teuton  to  resist  the  invitation  of 
Coralie's  blue  eyes  and  blinking  eyelashes.  Out 
burst  the  tide  of  Fraulein's  confidences : 

"  Ach,  but  it  is  good  to  speak,  to  open  the  heart 
to  friendly  ears.  No,  Hebe  Mrs.  Chamieson,  how 
you  have  right !  My  little  Norah,  I  forgive  all  her 
badnesses  these  days,  and  she  has  been  pad,  Mrs. 
Chamieson,"  again  the  head  wagged  impressively, 
"  for  the  child,  as  you  say  with  so  much  understand- 
ing, is  unhappy — heart's  unhappy.  Ever  since  that 
day  of  my  dreadful  influenza  attack,  have  I  not 
noticed  it,  my  goodness !  Hour  by  hour  more  irri- 
tated, more  restless,  more  unlike  herself!  And  what 
happened  on  that  day  ?  "  Fraulein  lifted  a  knobby 
finger,  "  the  last  time  she  see  Lord  Enniscorthy 
alone ! " 

Coralie  leaned  forward. 

"Oh,  do  you  think  .  .  .?"  she  thrilled.  "I 
have  wondered.  .  .  ." 

When  two  noble  souls  foregather,  the  value  of 
mere  words  is  inconsiderable;  such  sympathy  is  be- 
tween them  that  everything  lies  in  look,  expression, 
accent.  Fraulein  felt  she  was  indeed  understood. 
More  than  this — rare  sensation  for  a  poor  little  gov- 
erness— she  felt  that  she  was  absorbingly  interest- 
ing. She  drew  a  sucking  breath  and  proceeded  with 
fresh  gusto: 

"  Yes,  so  it  is,  Mrs.  Chamieson.  Ach,  I  notice ; 
where  I  love  there  is  nothing  escapes  my  eyes !  The 
young  pair  were  alone  together  for  the  last  time,  and 


A    WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       259 

thereafter  the  happiness  of  my  Norah  withers.  I 
was  ill;  what  happened  I  know  not,  beyond  that  he 
and  she  ran  away  for  a  motor  drive,  all  by  themselves. 
Ach,  it  was  very  naughty !  But,  ach,  one  might  for- 
give such  naughtiness  !  "  Trottsky's  face  wrinkled 
into  its  good  smile.  "  But  Lady  Gertrude  " — she 
grew  grave  again — "  Lady  Gertrude — misunder- 
stand me  not,  Mrs.  Chamieson,  for  my  employer  I 
have  veneration — that  is  an  edle  Frau,  Mrs.  Chamie- 
son, a  noble  woman,  but  she  has  stern  ideas — stern 
ideas.  She  was  not  pleased  with  Norah — ach,  how 
the  little  one  cried  that  evening!  I  heard  her  close 
to  me,  and  could  not  go  to  her,  for  I  was  infectious. 
Ach,  I  was  very  ill!  prandy  every  hour. — Danger- 
ously ill.  .  .  .  The  Doctor  said " 

Coralie,  perceiving  in  Fraulein's  eyes  the  fixity 
of  one  who  gazes  upon  an  enthralling  mental  picture, 
skilfully  brought  her  back  to  the  subject  under  dis- 
cussion. 

"  Indeed,"  she  said,  gently  touching  Fraulein's 
hand,  "  I  heard  how  ill  you  were."  Then,  with  her 
uncanny  tact :  "  We  must  take  great  care  of  you 
still."  (Coralie  knew  that  some  people  cannot  bear 
to  be  told  they  are  well.)  "  So  you  think  Lady 
Gertrude  told  Lord  Enniscorthy  not  to  come  back?  " 

Fraulein  flung  out  her  palms. 

"  Judge  for  yourself.  He  has  not  been  to  the 
schoolroom  since,  not  once,  nor  even  telephoned ! " 

"  And  before  that " 

"  Ach,  before  that,  efery  day  he  was  here.  Let- 
ters !  Messages !  Mrs.  Chamieson  " — the  speaker 


260       DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

dropped  her  voice  to  a  guttural  whisper — "  I  will 
confide  something  to  you.  Ach,  you  are  so  sympa- 
thetic-kind— I  vink !  " 

"  What  do  you  do  ?  "  e j  aculated  Coralie,  unable 
to  seize  the  meaning  of  these  mysterious  words. 
"  What  do  you  do,  dear  Fraulein  ?  " 

"  I  vink — I  vink  at  it.  I  let  him  come.  It  is 
forbidden ;  I  keep  it  dark.  Ach !  "  she  clasped  her 
hands  again,  "  what  a  pair !  So  young,  so  hand- 
some, so  moch  in  love !  And  now  separated !  " 

"  You  do  think,  then,  Lord  Enniscorthy  loves 
Norah?" 

"  Love  her,"  said  Trottsky,  shrilly,  oblivious  of 
caution,  "  love  her  ?  He  would  carry  her  on  his 
hands — he  would,  as  your  Shakespeare  so  beautifully 
says,  not  have  the  winds  of  heaven  blow  upon  her. 
Love  her!  And  who  would  not  have  loved  her  as 
she  was  then — so  frisch,  so  child-sweet. 
But  now,"  the  little  bony  finger  went  up  with  its 
weighty  gesture,  "  already  she  is  changed.  Every 
day  she  changes  more.  They  are  to  be  kept  apart 
till  she  is  older.  When  they  meet — ach,  where  will 
he  find  her — the  Norah  he  loves  he  can  find  no 
longer." 

"  Fraulein,"  said  Coralie,  "  you're  as  wise  as  you're 
darling." 

She  took  the  little  flat  figure  into  her  arms,  and 
hugged  it. 


"  No  one  can  do  it  but  me,"  said  Coralie  to  her- 
self, scornful  of  grammar ;  "  I'll  have  to  do  it." 

And  yet  she  was  shy  of  the  task  she  had  set  her- 
self. Her  aunt  was  not  a  person  to  approach  with 
advice;  above  all,  upon  a  matter  where  her  deepest 
feelings  were  concerned.  The  little  American  was 
the  only  one  in  her  surroundings  who  even  guessed 
how  absorbing  a  passion  was  maternal  love  in  Ger- 
trude Esdale's  life. 

The  mistress  of  Orange  Court,  a  basket  on  her 
arm,  flower-scissors  in  her  hand,  shady  hat  on  her 
head,  was  about  to  make  the  round  of  the  rosery,  to 
collect  blooms  for  the  refreshing  of  the  vases.  She 
deputed  to  none  this  task  of  decoration;  no  more 
than  she  deputed  the  ordering  of  dinner,  or  the 
minute  supervision  of  household  comforts.  Coralie 
caught  up  a  white  parasol,  tucked  her  hand  under 
her  hostess's  arm,  and  announced  her  intention  of 
accompanying  her. 

"  When  she  gets  to  her  fifth  rose  I'll  speak,"  she 
decided.  And  valorously,  as  an  exquisite  white 
blossom  was  laid  into  the  basket,  she  began : 

"  Aunt  G.,  I've  just  been  in  the  schoolroom — 
Norah  wasn't  there.  Fraulein  says  she's  dreadfully 
changed." 

261 


Lady  Gertrude  looked  round,  her  face  clouding. 

"  I  know,  I  know,"  she  said  sadly ;  then,  with  more 
reserve,  turning  again  to  her  rose  tree :  "  It  is  a  mere 
girlish  phase.  It  will  pass,  I  trust,  with  the  passing 
of  Emerald  Fanny." 

"  It's  nothing  to  do  with  Emerald  Fanny,  redly" 
answered  Coralie  in  a  low  voice.  "  Fraulein  thinks 
— I  think,  too — it's  because  of  Enniscorthy." 

The  mother's  face  became  set  as  in  a  fair  mask  of 
reserve.  She  folded  her  lips  close,  snipped  two  or 
three  roses  in  silence,  and  proceeded  to  the  next  tree. 
There  she  spoke  again: 

"  I'm  glad  it's  fine,  for  poor  Jane.  She  does  so 
enjoy  coming  here." 

Coralie  felt  tempted  to  accept  the  snub  and  hold 
her  peace.  But  the  fellow-feeling  of  youth  for 
youth,  the  memory  of  Norah's  sobs,  of  the  girl's 
miserable,  tear-stained  face  prevailed. 

"  Fraulein  says,"  she  blurted  out,  "  that  Ennis- 
corthy is  madly  in  love  with  her.  Oh,  Aunt  G.,  she 
ought  to  have  her  chance !  " 

The  listener  turned  pale  under  the  shadow  of  her 
hat;  but  it  was  with  the  sudden,  unexpected  joy 
which  these  words  brought  to  her  mother's  heart. 
Yet  she  was  silent,  and  went  on  cutting  and  reach- 
ing for  boughs,  as  if  the  filling  of  her  basket  were 
her  only  thought.  But  Coralie  was  now  fairly 
started. 

"  Don't  think  me  impertinent,  darling  Aunt  G., 
but — you  have  tried  to  part  them,  haven't  you? 
Fraulein  says  you  must  have  given  him  the  hint 


A    WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       263 

to  stay  away.  He  used  to  be  here  every  day 

Oh,  my !  here  am  I  letting  all  the  cats  out  of  all  the 
bags !  But  I  know  you  won't  betray  me,  because 
it's  only  for  Norah,  only  for  your  own  dear  self  I'm 
telling  you.  Enniscorthy  used  to  come  every  day 
to  see  Norah  .  .  .  until  that  motor  escapade 
of  theirs." 

Snip,  snip,  went  the  scissors.  The  wielder  of  them, 
two  paces  in  front  of  her  companion,  scarcely  seemed 
to  hear  the  eager  words  as  they  poured  forth. 

"  Norah  was  breaking  her  heart  this  morning, 
and  that  little  vulgar  beast  of  an  Emerald  Fanny  is 
her  confidant.  Aunt  G.,  you  ought  to  make  them 
meet  again.  What  does  it  matter  if  she's  only  a 
schoolgirl,  and  he  only  twenty-three?  One  only  meets 
the  right  man  once  in  a  lifetime." 

Lady  Gertrude  stood  with  her  scissors  poised  and 
Coralie  fell  silent,  for  the  attitude  was  one  of  deep 
reflection.  Then  the  elder  woman  suddenly  wheeled 
round,  took  the  younger  into  her  arms,  and  gave 
her  one  of  her  deep-hearted  kisses.  Still  in  silence, 
she  released  the  slender  form  and  picked  up  her 
basket,  setting  her  steps  towards  the  house.  They 
were  half-way  across  the  sward  when  she  at  last 
spoke,  musingly: 

"  Some  little  informal  gathering  would  be  the  best 
— an  after-dinner  dance — fifteen  couples  or  so — im- 
promptu, while  you  are  still  with  us.  To-morrow 
or  Friday?  I  must  find  out  which  day  Enniscorthy 
is  off  duty." 

Coralie  dropped  her  parasol  to  catch  both  the 


DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

speaker's  hands,  and  to  shake  them,  basket  and  all. 
till  half  the  flowers  danced  out  upon  the  lawn. 

"  You're  a  genius !  "  she  cried,  "  and  if  you  could 
only  get  rid  of  Emerald  Fanny.  .  .  .  How 
long  is  that  creature  going  to  stick?  I'll  tell  you 
one  thing,  Aunt  G.,  if  she  doesn't  go  soon,  Uncle 
Reginald  will.  He's  about  as  dead  sick  of  her  as  a 
man  can  be  of  a  woman,  and  that,"  Coralie  added 
philosophically,  "  is  just  the  sickest  thing  in  cre- 
ation." 

Lady  Gertrude  smiled. 

"  I  think,"  she  said,  placidly,  "  that  I  can  make 
the  little  dance  serve  both  ends.  Oh,  my  poor 
flowers ! " 

Coralie  flung  herself  on  her  knees  to  pick  them 
up.  It  was  not  till  she  had  amassed  the  roses  and 
was  replacing  them  in  the  basket  that  she  realised 
how  absently  Lady  Gertrude  had  been  wielding  her 
scissors — clusters  of  infantile  buds,  and  scarcely 
fledged  blossoms,  whole  branches  of  promise,  had 
fallen  to  their  blades. 

"  Poor  darling,"  she  thought,  as  she  tactfully 
endeavoured  to  keep  the  full-blown  blooms  to  the 
top,  "  how  she  does  adore  that  child !  And  how: 
odd  and  silent  she  is  about  her ! " 

There  was  a  labyrinth  in  the  heart,  unknown  even 
to  its  owner.  Gertrude  could  hardly  have  explained 
why  she  should  have  been  so  frank  where  her  hus- 
band's Indian  summer  madness  was  concerned,  and 
so  secretive  over  her  daughter's  April  love.  She 
treasured  in  her  mother's  mind  the  sacredness  of  that 


A    WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       265 

virginity.  Something  suffered  within  her  to  hear 
these  intimate,  delicate  emotions  discussed  even  by 
such  kind  lips;  and  yet  Coralie's  revelation  had 
brought  her  intense  joy.  If  it  were  true,  and  how 
fain  she  was  to  believe  it,  that  Enniscorthy  loved  her 
child,  it  seemed  to  her  that  nothing  else  mattered. 
It  was  as  if  the  outlook  of  misty  gloom  that  lay 
before  her  had  been  suddenly  pierced  with  sunshine, 
and  through  rifting  clouds  a  fair  prospect  of  plain 
and  hill,  and  blue  sky,  had  burst  upon  her  vision. 

Corah'e  volunteered  to  settle  the  flowers,  both 
touched  and  amused  to  see  her  aunt's  sublime  uncon- 
sciousness of  her  harvest.  And  Gertrude  accepted; 
she  wanted  to  obtain  her  husband's  concurrence  in 
her  plan,  she  said.  The  merest  fafon  de  parler,  as 
both  she  and  Coralie  knew,  for  when  Lady  Gertrude 
had  made  a  plan  she  had  very  little  doubt  of  being 
able  to  carry  it  through. 

Sir  Reginald  frowned  as  the  rustle  of  a  woman's 
dress  caught  his  ear;  but  at  sight  of  his  wife  he 
smiled.  He  was  sitting  at  his  writing-table,  and 
there  was  a  pathetic  air  of  weariness  about  him,  an 
unconscious  appeal  in  the  eyes  he  raised  to  her. 

"  Reggie,  do  you  mind  my  having  a  tiny  im- 
promptu dance  for  the  child,  to-morrow  or  Friday  ?  " 

"  No,  my  dear,  no.  Of  course  not,"  he  was  eager 
to  assure  her. 

She  laid  her  hand  on  his  shoulder: 

"  Just  a  little  festivity  before  the  breaking  up  of 
our  party.  After  that  it  would  be  nice  to  be  to  our- 
selves, would  it  not?  " 


DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

He  understood ;  and  every  fibre  of  his  bruised  sen- 
sitiveness responded  to  the  aspiration. 

"  It  would  be  heaven ! "  he  said  in  his  emphatic 
way.  She  pressed  his  shoulder  before  withdrawing 
her  touch. 

He  caught  her  hand  and  kissed  it.  Upon  a  closer 
demonstration  he  did  not  yet  venture;  but  when  in 
return  she  let  her  lips  rest  for  a  second  on  his  hair, 
an  extraordinary  feeling  of  comfort  stole  into  his 
heart;  a  satisfaction  so  intimate  and  sweet  that  not 
the  most  tender  moments  with  Emerald  Fanny  could 
compare  to  it. 

"  Ah,  here  is  Jane ! "  cried  Lady  Gertrude,  as  a 
fluttering  silhouette  passed  by  the  window.  "  Poor 
Jane,  she  must  have  taken  the  town  omnibus — I  did 
not  expect  her  so  early,  and  meant  to  send  the  car 
to  meet  her." 

Sir  Reginald  cursed  Jane  silently:  another  mo- 
ment and  he  would  have  had  his  wife  in  his  arms. 


XI 

NORAH  and  Mrs.  Lancelot  came  in  to  lunch,  as 
usual,  linked  together ;  "  like  the  Siamese  twins,"  as 
Coralie  contemptuously  told  herself.  They  were,  in- 
deed, if  anything,  more  affectionate  than  usual — the 
result  of  that  falling  out  which  all  the  more  endears 
.  .  .  for  the  moment.  Norah  had  passionately 
reproached  her  friend  for  having  persuaded  her  to 
the  telephone  wile.  And  in  the  heat  of  her  argument 
the  words,  "  a  mean  and  vulgar  trick  "  had  escaped 
her.  No  sooner  spoken,  however,  than  repented  of 
before  the  moan  that  fell  from  the  widow's  lips ;  the 
brimming  eye  that,  like  that  of  the  doe  at  bay, 
mutely  spoke  the  heart's  anguish. 

"  Oh,  Emerald,  I  didn't  mean  it ! "  had  stammered 
the  girl,  aghast  at  her  own  cruelty. 

Then  Emerald's  tears  had  fallen,  slow  gathering, 
slow  dripping.  And,  in  a  broken  voice,  exquisitely 
gentle,  in  contrast  to  her  friend's  high  tones,  she 
had  defended  herself — defended  herself  in  the  ablest 
possible  manner,  by  apology,  by  self-accusation. 
She  had  been  at  her  wits'  end  how  to  help  her  dar- 
ling. She  had  thought  that  all  would  be  right 
between  them — them  signifying  Norah  and  Ennis- 
corthy — could  he  but  once  hear  the  sound  of  her 
voice  again.  .  .  .  She  saw  now  that  she 
had  been  foolish,  thoughtless !  She  was  so  sorry ; 

267 


oh,  so  sorry !  Indeed,  she  was  not  one  to 
bring  luck  to  others.  She  would  never  strive  to 
help  even  one  she  loved  so  dearly  again.  Every- 
thing she  touched  failed.  Broken,  broken  life 
.  .  .  lonely,  heart-weary!  Oh!  (Her  face  was 
hidden  in  her  hands,  and  she  was  sobbing  now.)  She 
would  take  her  shadow  quickly  out  of  Norah's  young 
life.  Norah,  born  for  happiness,  brilliance,  power. 
.  .  .  She,  for  sorrow,  solitude,  failure  and  de- 
spair. 

Needless  to  say  that,  by  this  time,  Norah's  arms 
were  about  the  forlorn  one,  Norah's  lips  were  im- 
ploring pardon,  vowing  eternal  affection  with  every 
persuasive  word  and  kiss. 

Both,  therefore,  had  the  traces  of  tears  on  their 
countenances — in  Mrs.  Lancelot's  case  an  interesting 
pallor  heightened  by  blanc  de  Ninon  and  artfully 
shadowed  eyelids ;  in  Norah's,  frankly  swollen  lids 
and  frankly  reddened  nose. 

Everyone  had  the  tact  to  avoid  comment,  except 
poor  Lady  Challoner,  whose  kind  heart  was  distressed 
by  the  evidence  of  trouble  on  her  niece's  usually 
spring-bright  face. 

Fortunately  her  attention  was  diverted  by  the 
thrilling  interest  of  making  Emerald  Fanny's 
acquaintance.  At  first  the  name  excited  an  alarming 
flood  of  reminiscence ;  fortunately,  no  one  but  Coralie 
was  able  to  follow  the  rambling  utterances. 

"  So  Chiaro  Scuro  was  wrong  there ! "  she  cried, 
hugging  herself.  "  It  wasn't  Emily,  after  all. 
You're  not  Emily,  really,"  she  asked,  turning  her 


A    WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       269 

pale,  innocent  eyes  earnestly  upon  Mrs.  Lancelot. 
"  Dear  me,  no,  of  course  not !  " 

She  quailed  under  the  vindictive  glance  with  which 
the  widow  met  the  enquiry.  And,  hugging  herself 
more  energetically  than  ever,  lost  the  thread  of  her 
first  idea. 

"  But  wasn't  it  wonderful  and  delightful  he  should 
have  been  so  right  about  Tuesdays  and  wheels !  Of 
course  I  don't  mean  delightful ;  you  had  an  accident, 
dear  Coralie.  But  it  is  a  satisfaction  to  know  that 
the  spirits  cannot  be  wrong.  Isn't  it? — And  he  said 

that4  emeralds  would  have  such  an  influence " 

She  stole  a  frightened  look  across  the  table  at  the 
widow,  who,  with  her  own  eyes  better  under  control, 
now  regarded  her  sweetly  back.  "  I  wonder  did  he 
mean  the  name  or  the  stone?  It's  such  a  lovely 
stone!  Oh,  has  anything  happened  about  emeralds 
in  this  house  ?  " 

"  Hock,"  said  the  General  fiercely  to  the  butler. 
"  Jane,  will  you  have  hock?  " 

"  Yes,"  interpolated  Lady  Gertrude  in  her  pleas- 
ant matter-of-fact  tone,  "  Reginald  and  I  have  given 
Mrs.  Lancelot  a  collar  with  emeralds,  which,  we  are 
glad  to  think,  she  likes.  She  will  show  it  to  you 
after  lunch.  And,  strange  to  say,  Jane,  it  was  lost 
in  the  motor  accident,  and  there  was  a  tremendous 
excitement  till  it  was  found.  So  your  prophet  was 
right  in  two  instances." 

But  Jane,  with  the  uncanny  sharpness  which  fre- 
quently accompanies  a  slight  weakness  of  intellect, 
here  turned  her  gaze  in  a  perfect  flutter  of  anxiety 


270       DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

upon  Sir  Reginald.  It  wasn't  Gertrude  who  had 
given  emeralds  to  the  little  white-faced  widow  oppo- 
site her,  with  those  eyes  that  could  look  angry  and 
sweet  all  in  a  moment — it  was  Gertrude's  husband. 
And  it  was  very  wrong.  Jane  had  a  husband  her- 
self; she  would  not  like  Caractacus,  she  meant  Chal- 
loner,  to  do  such  a  thing.  (It  required,  indeed,  an 
imagination  as  far-stretching  as  Jane's  to  conjure 
up  such  a  contingency!  But  Jane  did  so  and  with 
quite  agitating  results.)  She  was  a  wife  herself; 
she  knew  that  Gertrude  could  not  like  it.  And 
now,  in  her  inchoate  mind,  the  rags  and  tags  of  half- 
forgotten  information  began  to  rise  and  flutter  like 
bits  of  straw  in  a  wind.  She  remembered  the  discus- 
sion in  her  mother's  bedroom ;  the  horrible  revelations 
concerning  Sir  Reginald  and  a  widow.  The  prophe- 
sied danger;  the  evil  results  of  Gertrude's  folly  in 
inviting  her  under  her  roof.  Not  least,  the  psychic 
one's  cryptic  warnings. 

Gertrude  saw  the  emotions  that  passed  over  her 
sister's  countenance — the  wild  roll  of  Jane's  eyes 
from  Mrs.  Lancelot  to  the  General;  and,  even  as 
Lady  Challoner  opened  her  lips  to  speak,  she  inter- 
vened : 

"  I  am  thinking  of  being  very  festive  the  day 
after  to-morrow. — Norah,  you  don't  know  what  is 
in  store  for  you.  Your  first  dance !  Yes,  my  dear, 
here,  and  quite  impromptu  and  informal  of  course — 
to  suit  your  years  and  the  suddenness  of  the  idea. 
Enniscorthy  has  promised,"  she  looked  down  as 
she  spoke,  but  she  felt  Norah's  start,  knew  without 


A     WEEK'S     CHRONICLE       271 

seeing  the  flush  and  quick  lightening  of  the  young 
downcast  face.  "  Enniscorthy  has  promised  to  bring 
all  the  dancing  youth  we  want.  And  you,  child,  can 
ask  all  your  girl  friends." 

She  looked  now,  smiling,  at  her  daughter.  It 
was  to  find  that,  in  her  joy,  the  girl  was  clasping 
the  widow's  hand.  The  mother  went  on  smoothly; 
yet  it  was  perhaps  this  last  discovery,  insignificant 
as  it  appeared,  that  lent  the  cold  note  to  her  voice, 
seeming  to  point  to  the  fact  that,  under  all  her 
courtesy,  it  was  notice  of  dismissal  she  was  deliv- 
ering : 

"  We  hope,  Mrs.  Lancelot,  that  you  will  see  your 
way  to  stay  on  till  Saturday,  that  we  may  have  you 
at  our  little  dance." 

Emerald's  hand  contracted  on  Norah's.  She 
flung  a  look  at  Sir  Reginald.  Only  a  few  days  ago, 
how  sure  an  appeal  that  would  have  been.  What 
met  her  now  was  an  air  of  politeness,  determinedly 
misunderstanding,  and  the  words  perfunctory  and 
bland : 

"  No,  indeed,  we  cannot  let  you  go  before  the 
dance." 

"  No,  indeed,"  echoed  Norah,  apparently  heart- 
lessly indifferent  to  the  thought  of  her  friend's  de- 
parture. "  It  will  be  such  fun ! — Oh,  mammy, 
mammy  darling !  " 

Her  eyes  were  sparkling.  She  had  quite  uncon- 
sciously withdrawn  her  fingers  from  Emerald's 
touch. 

"  Little  ungrateful  cat !  "  thought  Mrs.  Lancelot, 


DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

feeling  upon  every  side  the  blighting  bitterness  of 
ingratitude. 

Into  Jane's  faded  orbs  had  come  a  pathetic  reflec- 
tion of  Norah's  joy. 

"  A  dance,"  she  murmured.  "  Oh,  dear  Gertrude, 
how  delightful ! "  She  shook  herself  and  turned 
wistfully  to  Coralie,  obliquely  murmuring :  "  I  have 
not  been  to  a  dance  for  many  years.  And  my  trous- 
seau pink  satin  dress  is  quite  good  still,  the  one  with 
the  gold  embroideries,  you  know." 

Gertrude  overheard,  as  indeed  she  was  meant  to 
do.  And  leaning  forward,  she  fixed  her  sister  with 
a  look  of  kindness,  almost  of  tenderness : 

"  Yes,  Jane  dear,  you  will  have  to  come  and  stay 
the  night  for  it.  And  I  am  sure  the  pink  satin  will 
look  beautiful." 

"  Oh "  cried  Jane,  clasping  her  thin  hands  in 

rapture.  "  If  Caractacus  would  only  let  me  have 
the  pearls ! " 

"  Caractacus ! "  echoed  Lady  Gertrude  with  a 
laugh.  Her  heart  was  light  within  her,  light  as  it 
had  not  been  for  days. 

"  She  means  Uncle  Challoner,"  giggled  Coralie. 

"  Oh,  is  Lord  Challoner  called  Caractacus  ? — 
What  an  interesting  name ! "  commented  Mrs. 
Lancelot. 

"  No,  no,"  said  Jane,  "  that's  not  his  real  name. 
Dear  me,  did  I  say  Caractacus?  I  mean  Challoner, 
of  course.  It  was  Caractacus  in  a  previous  exist- 
ence." 

"  Who  ? "    asked    Norah,    who    with    upbounding 


spirits  found  all  the  schoolgirl  amusement  in  laugh- 
ing at  "  poor  Aunt  Jane."  "  Was  Uncle  Challoner 
your  husband  in  a  previous  existence,  too?  " 

"  No,  dear,  no.  Not  Challoner.  .  .  .  Carac- 

tacus  was "  her  eyes  grew  distraught.  She 

pushed  the  wisp  of  hair  from  her  forehead  with  fever- 
ish hands. — What  dreadful  thing  might  she  be  led 
to  say  before  the  child?  Really  psychic  communica- 
tions were  extraordinarily  thrilling,  but  one  never 
quite  knew  where  one  was  as  to  morality. 

"  Caractacus,"  said  Coralie,  coming  gaily  to  the 
rescue,  "  is  Aunt  J.'s  earth  spirit. — You  needn't 
grunt  at  me,  Ernest,  it's  puff ec fly  true.  I've  person- 
ally made  the  acquaintance  of  Caractacus ;  and  he's 
a  very  remarkable  person.  He's  very  much  inter- 
ested in  Aunt  J." 


BOOK  III 
ONE     NIGHT 


ORANGE  COURT  was  filled  to  its  utmost  capacity  on 
the  Friday  of  Lady  Gertrude's  diplomatic  dance. 
For,  after  the  manner  of  such  entertainments,  it  had 
grown  till  its  organiser  had  declared  inexorably  her 
list  was  full.  Some  most  unexpected  additions  had 
accrued  to  the  party  meanwhile.  Not  the  least  un- 
expected being  the  Dowager  Lady  Enniscorthy  her- 
self. 

A  letter  from  Lady  Florence  to  her  sister  had  ar- 
rived by  first  post  two  days  before  the  event.  It  ran 
thus: 

"Jane  tells  us,  dearest  Gertrude,  that  you  are  giving  a  balL 
Dear  mamma  is  a  little  hurt  that  she  should  not  have  been 
informed  of  the  matter.  She  begs  me  to  tell  you  that,  though 
she  knows  she  is  too  old  to  receive  an  invitation,  you  need  not 
have  kept  the  event  secret  from  her.  We  suppose  the  festivity 
is  to  feter  dear  Reginald's  return  home,  Norah  not  having 
yet  been  presented;  and  now,  of  course,  we  understand  why 
you  were  so  anxious  that  Coralie  and  my  Ernest  should  go 
to  you!  Do  you  think  it  is  quite  worthy  of  you,  my  dearest 
Gertrude,  or  quite  kind  to  make  this  mystery?  For  me,  you 
know  how  completely  untouched  all  these  wordly  things  leave 
me  since  my  great  sorrow;  but  when  I  see  dear  mamma- s 
pained  countenance  I  cannot  help  feeling  sad.  We  may  not 
have  her  so  long  with  us." 

Lady  Gertrude's  eyebrows  went  up  in  rueful  amuse- 
ment as  she  perused  this  document.  It  had  certainly 

877 


278       DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

never  occurred  to  her  to  inform  the  Dowager  of  the 
impromptu  dance,  which  was  to  be  confined  to  the 
youth  of  her  acquaintance,  and  was  not  intended  to 
count  otherwise  than  as  the  most  informal  boy  and 
girl  affair,  since  Norah  was  still  in  the  schoolroom. 
Now  it  seemed  the  news  of  her  "  ball " — Lady  Ger- 
trude Esdale's  ball  for  her  debutante  daughter — was 
bruited  far  and  wide.  There  was  nothing  for  that 
but  to  allow  facts  to  speak  for  themselves.  Far 
otherwise  important  was  the  misunderstanding  with 
Lady  Enniscorthy. 

"  Dear  mamma  is  a  little  hurt.  .  .  ."  Ger- 
trude never  quite  believed  her  sister's  pathetic  state- 
ments. Nevertheless,  the  possibility  of  this  one  being, 
for  once,  correct,  was  not  to  be  endured.  To  sue 
for  the  Dowager's  company  with  all  the  affectionate 
importunity  possible  was  the  most  urgent  of  all  the 
many  preoccupations  which  now  pressed  upon  her, 
and  Gertrude  could  conceive  no  better  emissary  but 
the  favourite  grandchild  herself. 

Accordingly,  Norah  was  dispatched  to  Park  Lane 
in  the  motor,  duly  chaperoned  by  Coralie  and  Ernest ; 
Lady  Gertrude,  in  the  midst  of  all  her  preparations, 
undertook  the  heroic  task  of  entertaining  her  visitor 
for  the  afternoon. 

Sir  Reginald  had  found  the  War  Office  convenient 
again,  and  taken  an  early  train  for  town. 

Norah  departed  in  high  feather ;  Emerald  Fanny's 
plaintive  looks  over  their  separation  passed  appar- 
ently unnoticed.  Indeed,  Mrs.  Lancelot's  influence 
over  her  young  friend  had  entered  upon  a  fitful 


ONENIGHT  279 

stage ;  now,  to  Coralie's  disgust,  seeming  more  com- 
plete than  ever;  now  as  if  it  had  never  existed. 

Whether,  owing  to  Lady  Gertrude's  tactfulness 
in  avoiding  any  semblance  of  apology  in  the  letter 
which  Norah  conveyed  to  her  grandmother;  whether 
because  the  latter's  breezy  and  unexpected  entrance, 
and  heart-whole  endorsement  of  the  invitation  it 
contained,  sufficed  to  sweep  away  her  "  hurt  feel- 
ings," the  embassy  proved  a  complete  success.  Lady 
Enniscorthy  acceded  in  high  good  humour  to  her 
granddaughter's  entreaty. 

"  It's  my  very  own  little  dance,  granny  darling ! 
Just  my  Windsor  friends,  and  Enn,  and  a  few  boys 
— and  not  any  horrid  dowagers — but  I  want  you." 

Lady  Florence's  lips  had  already  parted  over  the 
rebuke  that  was  to  point  the  extraordinary  awk- 
wardness of  her  niece's  manner  of  expressing  herself, 
when  the  old  lady  forestalled  her. 

"  Quite  right,  my  love — dowagers  are  a  great  mis- 
take, eh,  Florence?  Yes,  I'll  come,  I'll  come." 

"  Dear  mamma — the  fatigue — the  journey — the 
late  hours " 

Florence  turned  a  flustered  countenance  upon  her 
mother. 

"  Fatigue  ?  Nonsense !  Why  should  it  fatigue 
me?  Gertrude  will  give  me  a  comfortable  room,  and 
look  after  me.  And  as  for  the  journey " — her 
bright  eye  took  its  malicious  twinkle  as  she  fixed  the 
anxious  guardian — "  I  won't  trouble  you  to  exhaust 
yourself  by  accompanying  me." 

*'  No,  indeed,"  confirmed  Norah,  with  unflattering 


280        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

haste.  "  You  needn't  come  a  bit,  Aunt  Florence. 
We'll  look  after  granny." 

"I  reckon,"  put  in  Coralie,  who,  up  to  this,  had 
•at  demurely  in  unwonted  silence,  "  Aunt  G.  quite 
understood  from  your  letter,  momma,  that  you  could 
not  put  such  a  strain  on  your  feelings  as  to  join  our 
giddy  revels." 

The  Dowager  had  been  in  a  good  humour  before ; 
but  the  sight  of  Lady  Florence's  discomfiture  in- 
creased her  cheerfulness  to  positive  hilarity. 

"  I  couldn't  dream  of  letting  dear  mamma " 

the  poor  lady  was  beginning,  when,  friskily,  she  was 
interrupted. 

"I  shall  go  alone  to  stay  with  Gertrude,"  the 
Dowager  cried,  with  the  decisiveness  which  none 
dared  oppose.  Her  fine  old  face  was  wrinkled  into 
delighted  smiles — something  of  the  child's  joy  in 
escaping  from  it's  nurse's  control  was  pathetically 
apparent  in  her  demeanour. 

Lady  Florence  folded  her  lips  in  that  vindictive 
line  which  betrayed  the  feelings  of  anger  rarely  al- 
lowed to  find  vent  in  words.  She  gave  a  deep  sigh, 
of  utmost  foreboding,  followed  by  a  fervent  aspira- 
tion: 

"  Pray  Heaven  we  may  not  all  regret  this !  " 

Still  with  the  gay  twinkle  in  her  eyes,  Lady  Ennis- 
corthy  pursued,  as  if  she  had  not  heard  the  ominous 
prayer : 

"  Tell  me,  is  the  creature — the  widow  with  the 
absurd  name — the  General's "  she  caught  her- 
self up  hastily,  with  a  glance  at  Norah's  flushing 


ONENIGHT  281 

face,  and  amended  her  phrase  suavely — "  the  lady 
who  nursed  your  father  so  well  in  India — is  she  still 
staying  with  you,  my  love?  " 

"  Yes,  I  am  glad  to  say,"  cried  the  girl  defiantly, 
resenting  in  her  loyalty  the  something  offensive  yet 
mysterious  in  the  Dowager's  expression  and  voice. 

"  Humph !  "  said  Lady  Enniscorthy. 

She  met  Coralie's  elaborately  innocent  gaze,  and 
there  was  a  mute  interchange  of  sentiments. 

"  If  I  were  you,  grandma,"  said  the  American 
then,  "  I'd  send  for  that  tiara  from  the  bank. 
You'll  want  it." 

A  purple  tide  rushed  to  Lady  Florence's  already 
flushed  cheeks. 

"  Coralie !  "  she  fulminated.  "  Pray,  forgive  her, 
dear  mamma." 

She  broke  off  abruptly:  Lady  Enniscorthy  was 
chuckling.  Really,  they  were  all  taking  a  very  ter- 
rible risk.  Of  course,  she  would  not  breathe  it  to 
a  soul,  but  once  or  twice  it  had  struck  her  already, 
never  more  forcibly  than  to-day:  dear  mamma  was 
getting  a  little  childish. 

"The  General,"  said  Coralie,  "is  at  the  War 
Office.  He  was  there  yesterday,  too.  And  Aunt  G. 
and  Mrs.  Lancelot  are  all  by  themselves.  She's 
only  staying  on  for  the  dance.  I'm  afraid  she's 
beginning  to  find  us  a  little  dull  at  Orange 
Court." 

"  Florence,"  said  Lady  Enniscorthy,  "  you'd  bet- 
ter go  and  fetch  the  tiara  from  Coutt's  to-morrow 
morning. — I'm  glad  I  shall  see  her,"  she  added, 


282       DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

turning  again  to  Coralie  with  the  childlike  air  of 
interest  and  amusement  that  sat  so  oddly  on  her 
majestic  age. 

"  See  who  ?  "  cried  Norah,  ungrammatically  and 
a  little  rudely. 

"  The  creature  with  the  precious  name,  my  pet," 
said  the  Dowager  in  a  guileless  tone  that  contrasted 
with  the  mischief  in  her  glance.  "  The  lady  who, 
as  I  said,  nursed  your  father  so  well." 

Then  she  unexpectedly  sent  for  her  lace  box,  and 
extracted  from  it  a  filmy  scarf,  which,  with  some 
ceremony,  she  gave  to  her  granddaughter  to  wear 
on  Friday.  She  disapproved  of  jewels  for  girls, 
she  said,  but  this  lace,  her  own  mother's,  was  worth 
many  trinkets.  To  this  gift  she  added  an  old 
painted  fan,  and  tenderness  grew  in  her  eyes  at  the 
sight  of  the  child's  rapture.  Lady  Florence  was 
past  speech;  but  when  she  saw  Coralie  actually  re- 
ceive a  hearty  farewell  kiss  instead  of  the  usual 
grudging  cheek,  she  became  more  gloomily  convinced 
than  ever  that  her  mother's  brilliant  intellect  at  last 
showed  signs  of  breaking  down. 

When  the  deputation  returned  to  Orange  Court, 
Norah's  first  proceeding  was  to  seek  her  friend  to 
display  her  new  treasures. 

She  found  her  alone  in  her  room,  a  prey  to  plaint- 
iveness,  not  to  say  profound  melancholy;  and  for 
the  first  time  Emerald  Fanny's  woes  rather  bored 
her  companion. 

The    "  Very    sweet,    my    love     ...     a    sweet 


O  N  E     N  I  G  H  T  283 

little  fan  indeed  .  .  .  quite  a  dear  scarf ! "  was 
not  what  she  expected  from  one  who  had  hitherto 
been  almost  too  ready  to  sympathise  in  all  her  joys 
and  sorrows.  The  lachrymose  voice  in  which  the 
encomium  was  uttered,  and  the  misty,  resigned  look 
that  accompanied  it,  were  uncomfortably  dashing  to 
the  girl's  mood. 

"  What's  the  matter? "  she  cried  impatiently. 
"  Hasn't  mamma  been  nice  to  you?  " 

"  Oh,  Lady  Gertrude  has  been  very  kind,"  the  suf- 
ferer assured  her.  "  I  did  what  I  could  to  help  her," 
this  with  a  weary  sigh ;  "  then  my  head  ached,  and 
I  asked  her  if  she  wouldn't  mind  my  retiring — to  be 
alone,  to  rest  a  little — and  I've  been  thinking  of  old 
times  somehow "  Here  the  swimming  eyes  over- 
flowed. 

Norah  caught  up  her  fan  again,  and  cast  the  ex- 
quisite cloud  of  lace  across  her  arm.  She  stood,  em- 
barrassedly  looking  at  the  widow.  A  shaft  of  even- 
ing sunshine  was  slanting  across  the  pathetic  face 
raised  towards  her,  as  Emerald  Fanny  sat  in  the 
armchair  by  her  open  window. 

Norah  could  not  help  seeing  in  this  revealing  light 
how  the  powder  stood  out  on  the  mourner's  little 
nose.  For  once  the  pathos  rang  false.  Instead  of 
grief  that  her  friend  should  have  cause  to  weep,  she 
found  in  herself  a  wonder  how  it  was  that  tears 
should  not  wash  furrows  for  themselves  down  those 
whitened  cheeks.  It  was  also  unwillingly  borne  in 
upon  her  that  when  Emerald  Fanny  was  gay  she 
wore  a  delicate  sea-shell  pink  upon  her  countenance ; 


284       DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

and  when  she  was  the  inconsolable  widow,  an  unre- 
lieved pallor.  Did  she  put  on  the  white  stuff  before 
she  began  to  cry  ?  If  she  did,  it  was  not  at  all  nice ! 
Norah  felt  such  thoughts  to  be  disloyal;  but  they 
were  not  to  be  chased.  The  dinner-gong  gave  her 
a  welcome  pretext  for  hurried  departure.  She  ran 
out  of  the  room  with  a  "  ta-ta,"  horribly  inappro- 
priate to  the  sorrow-laden  glance  that  followed  her. 
But  for  the  life  of  her  she  could  not  kiss  the  blanched 
cheek. 

After  some  reflection,  Mrs.  Lancelot  decided  that 
her  headache  was  too  severe  to  allow  her  to  join  the 
party  at  dinner ;  and  she  sent  a  pathetic  message  by 
the  house-maid  begging  that  nobody  might  come  to 
her,  as  she  felt  quite  too  ill  for  conversation. 

"  And  what  will  you  have  for  dinner,  mem  ?  "  asked 
Jane,  surveying  her  with  a  stolidly  unsympathetic 
eye.  (In  spite  of  all  her  sweetness  Emerald  Fanny 
had  not  ingratiated  herself  with  the  domestics  of 
Orange  Court.) 

"  Oh,  the  least  possible !  Anything — anything 
that  dear  Lady  Gertrude  likes  to  send  up,"  murmured 
the  widow. 

Gertrude  smiled  when  the  message  was  delivered  to 
her;  and  although  Jane  was  anxious  to  impress  the 
fact  that  "  She  did  say,  the  least  possible,  my  lady," 
her  mistress  considered  the  "  anything  dear  Lady 
Gertrude  likes  to  send  up  "  the  more  important  part 
of  her  guest's  request.  The  invalid,  therefore,  par- 
took of  an  excellent  repast,  helped  down  by  a  half- 
pint  of  champagne;  after  which  she  felt  sufficiently 


ONENIGHT  285 

restored — secure  from  visitors  that  night — to  smoke 
a  surreptitious  cigarette  out  of  the  window. 

Sir  Reginald  had  an  old-fashioned  prejudice 
against  ladies  smoking;  it  was  a  long  time  since  she 
had  permitted  herself  such  a  luxury. 

The  next  day  Lady  Enniscorthy  duly  arrived,  es- 
corted by  her  devoted  daughter,  who,  with  a  kind 
of  funereal  pomp,  handed  her  over  to  the  guardian- 
ship of  Lady  Gertrude. 

"  But  really,  Flo,"  said  the  latter,  out  of  her  kind 
heart,  "  I  can  put  you  up  if  you  think  better  of  it 
and  don't  mind  the  dressing-room  next  mamma." 

But  the  sight  of  her  mother's  repressive  frown 
convinced  Florence  that  she  had  better  prefer  the 
gloomy  triumph  of  consistency ;  she  shook  her  head. 

"  No,  Gertrude,  no ;  I  will  not  impose  my  black 
upon  your  gaiety.  Only  remember,  please,  that  dear 
mamma  must  have  her  brandy-and-water  when  she 
feels  the  least  tired;  and  I  hope  you  won't  let  her 
stay  up  after  eleven  o'clock.  And  there  ought  to  be 
a  little  chicken  broth  with  a  rusk  beside  her  bed,  in 
case  she  should  wake  up  in  the  night.  And  Sir 
James  does  not  really  like  her  to  have  anything  but 
a  fillet  of  sole  and  the  wing  of  a  small  bird  for  dinner. 
And,  by  the  way,  I've  written  Sir  James's  telephone 
number  on  this  card." 

"  Fiddle-de-dee ! "  said  Lady  Enniscorthy,  and 
snapped  the  card  out  of  the  devoted  one's  hand,  to 
tear  it  viciously  in  two.  "  You'll  miss  your  train, 
Florence." 


286        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

She  drew  a  long  breath  when  the  door  closed  on  the 
black  draperies.  (Forestalling  events,  it  may  be 
here  narrated  that,  after  an  excellent  and  varied 
dinner,  and  two  suppers  of  foie-gras  and  lobster 
salad  and  several  glasses  of  Moet,  she  did  not  go  to 
bed  till  past  two  o'clock,  after  which  she  slept  like 
a  top,  and  the  next  morning  declared  she  felt  ten 
years  younger.) 

The  only  shadow  upon  the  old  lady's  good  humour 
was  when  she  discovered  Jane's  presence  at  the  Court. 
"  I  thought,"  she  said,  turning  on  Norah,  who  had 
followed  her  to  her  room,  "  that  you  were  not  going 
to  have  any  horrid  dowagers  .  .  .  except  me." 

"  Oh,  but  poor  Aunt  Jane  is  not  a  dowager,"  cried 
the  girl. 

"  Perhaps  not,"  said  Lady  Enniscorthy,  struck 
by  the  justice  of  the  remark.  "  She'll  never  be  any- 
thing but  poor  Jane  to  the  end  of  the  chapter." 

"  As  for  you,  Granny,"  proceeded  Norah,  "  you 
will  just  be  the  Queen  of  us  all." 

The  grandmother  smiled,  well  pleased. 


II 

POOR  Jane  was  absent  on  a  solitary  walk  to  Wind- 
sor at  the  moment  of  her  mother's  arrival.  Challoner 
had  proved  inexorable  on  the  subject  of  the  family 
jewels;  and  Jane  hankered  for  something  that 
sparkled.  She  returned  in  triumph,  clutching  a 
pasteboard  box  which  contained  a  wreath  of  spangled 
leaves. 

Coralie  sent  her  Jeannette  coiffer  la  pauvre  milady; 
and  after  introducing  wonders  of  abnormal  frizzi- 
ness  into  the  scant  and  lank  locks,  she  was  about  to 
suggest  "  an  end  of  lace  "  for  "  the  little  place  on 
the  top,"  where  milady's  "  chevelure  left  to  be  de- 
sired," when  Jane,  with  a  modest  smile  of  triumph, 
drew  her  purchase  from  the  receptacle. 

"  Milady  is  not  going  to  put  that  on ! "  cried  the 
French  maid  in  dismay. 

"  Tres  jolly"  explained  Jane,  amiably. 

The  soubrette  fled  in  despair  to  her  mistress.  But 
when  Coralie  entered  the  room,  brandishing  a  lappet 
of  old  point  with  determined  air,  her  aunt  had  already 
donned  the  wreath,  and  turned  a  countenance  so 
pathetically  radiant,  so  certain  of  commendation, 
that  the  American  had  not  the  heart  to  dash  such 
confidence. 

"  From  a  little  distance,"  cried  Lady  Jane,  "  it 
looks  just  like  diamonds,  doesn't  it.  I  found  it  in 

287 


288        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

the  High  Street.  Only  5s.  ll|d.  I  don't  mind  about 
the  pearls  now." 

"  It's  wonderful,"  said  Coralie. 

Over  the  striped  flannelet  dressing-gown,  Jane's 
long,  silly  face,  crowned  with  the  abnormal  frizzles 
and  the  battlemented  array  of  spangled  leaves,  was 
indeed  a  wonderful  spectacle. 

"  Oh,  dear !  Oh,  dear,  I  wish  she  had  let  her  poor 
old  head  alone,"  lamented  Coralie  inwardly.  But 
she  could  not  utter  a  word  of  disapproval. 

"  Sit  down  again,  Aunt  J.,  and  let  me  put  in  a 
hairpin  here  and  there.  It's  lovely,  but  just  a  tiny 
bit  spikey." 

It  was  destined  to  be  a  great  night  for  Jane.  Be- 
fore her  niece  had  completed  her  task  there  came  a 
stumping  footfall  along  the  passage,  which  footstep 
halted  outside  her  door  and  was  succeeded  by  a  pe- 
culiar dry  tap  on  its  panels. 

Jane's  cheek,  scarlet  with  pleasure,  went  white. 

"  It's  Caractacus,"  she  murmured.  "  I  mean  Chal- 
loner!  Dear  me,  dear  me,  what  can  he  want?" 

Coralie  was  as  amazed  as  the  wife  of  his  bosom 
herself  to  behold  Lord  Challoner  in  person  enter  upon 
the  knock.  He  diffused,  as  usual,  a  strong  smell  of 
yellow  soap,  and  was  meticulously  attired  in  evening 
garb ;  a  white  pique  tie  of  remarkably  resisting  text- 
ure, starched  and  snowy,  was  tied  in  a  huge  bow 
under  his  upstanding  collar. 

"  They  told  me  I'd  find  you  here,"  he  remarked 
briskly  into  space.  "  Evening,  evening,  my  dear !  " 


ONENIGHT  289 

He  nodded  urbanely  to  Coralie.  Then  he  stood  star- 
ing at  his  wife,  one  hand  tucked  behind  his  back. 

"  Ton  my  soul,  Jane,"  he  cried  in  genuine  ad- 
miration, "  you  look  fine !  Mighty  fine !  " 

"  You  could  have  knocked  me  down  with  a  feather," 
Coralie  afterwards  related.  "  He  reelly  and  truly 
meant  it ! " 

Then,  his  face  wrinkling  more  and  more  into  smiles, 
Lord  Challoner  drew  his  left  hand  from  its  con- 
cealment and  displayed  a  brown  paper  parcel,  neatly 
corded  and  sealed. 

"  I've  brought  you  something.  I've  brought  you 
something.  I  took  the  'bus  to  the  bank  this  morning 
— cost  me  something,  I  can  tell  you — 'bus  there, 
'bus  back — ticket  to  Windsor,  too. — But  I  made  it 
balance,  ha!  there  is  your  keep  these  three  days  to 
stand  against  it  ...  and  my  dinner  and  sup- 
per to-night — they'll  have  me  to  dinner,  I  suppose? 
— What's  that,  young  lady?  Scissors? — No  such 
thing.  Never  cut  a  string.  You'll  end  in  the  work- 
house. I  never  cut  a  string  in  my  life,  young 
lady." 

His  knobby  yellow  fingers  were  laboriously  picking 
at  the  scientific  knots  of  the  bank  clerk. 

"  Oh,  Challoner,"  cried  Jane,  for  once  remembering 
the  right  name.  "  Is  it — are  they  the  pearls  ?  " 
Her  eyes  grew  pink  in  a  rush  of  gratitude. 

"  I  hardly  know  what  you  want  with  them  with 
that  grand  thing  on  your  head,"  he  said  grudgingly. 

"  Five  and  elevenpence  ha'penny,  in  the  High 
Street,  Windsor,"  interposed  Coralie  emphatically. 


290        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

"  Tut,  tut !  "  retorted  his  lordship.  "  Why,  that's 
nearly  six  shillings ! — Now  mind,"  he  turned  sharply 
on  his  spouse,  who  stood  before  him,  trembling  be- 
tween ecstatic  eagerness  and  her  habitual  awe  of 
him,  "  you'll  have  to  give  them  back  to  me  before  I 
go,  and  I'll  not  stay  later  than  twelve,  Jane!  And 
remember,  I'll  have  my  eye  on  you!  These  pearls," 
he  said  solemnly — the  springs  of  the  antique  box 
that  held  the  jewels  were  worn  to  uselessness,  and  the 
lid  opened  by  itself  under  his  touch — "  these  pearls 

are  worth "  He  broke  off,  with  a  suspicious 

glance  at  Coralie's  absorbed  face ;  the  little  American 
was  gazing  wide-eyed  at  the  milky  treasure. 

**  Ginger !  "  she  cried.  "  Why,  Jane — how  splen- 
dacious  you  will  be !  " 

"  I'll  have  my  eye  on  you  all  the  evening,"  re- 
peated Lord  Challoner,  menacingly. 

Lady  Enniscorthy  clothed  herself  for  the  occasion 
in  the  silver-grey  satin  which  she  had  worn  at  the 
last  Drawing-room  held  by  Queen  Victoria.  Then 
she  had  thought  it  her  "duty,"  as  she  said,  to 
"  rally  round  her  sovereign."  She  had  not  been  to 
Court  since.  She  was  too  old  (she  declared)  for 
new-fangled  ways.  She  had  no  doubt  it  was  all  very 
charming;  but  she  was  herself  of  the  old  order — the 
order  which  passeth  away — and  was  content  that  it 
should  be  so.  Except  that  she  wore  nothing  about 
the  fine  grey  head  but  a  cloud  of  lace,  she  had  made 
herself  as  magnificent  as  on  the  occasion  when  she 


ONENIGHT  291 

had  paid  her  final  respects  to  royalty.  And  she  was 
well  pleased  at  the  acclamations  which  greeted  her 
appearance. 

"  Granny,  you  are  a  perfect  dream !  "  cried  Norah, 
dancing  round  her.  "  Only  why,  why  did  not  you 
wear  your  tiara?  Atkinson  told  me  you  had  brought 
it." 

The  Dowager  flung  a  quizzical  look  at  Lady  Ger- 
trude. 

"  Did  you  never  hear,"  she  said  then,  in'  the 
transparent  explanatory  tone  generally  adopted  to- 
wards children,  "  that  it  is  safer  to  travel  with  your 
jewels,  rather  than  leave  them  behind?  " 

She  broke  off  to  stare — to  raise  her  eyeglass  and 
stare  again — as  Jane,  blushfully  conscious  of  her 
own  beautiful  appearance,  sidled  into  the  room,  fol- 
lowed by  an  anxious-faced  Coralie. 

"  Jane "  ej  aculated  the  mother.  "  Jane ! 

is  this  Jane?  " 

Lady  Challoner  arrested  her  fluttering  advance; 
she  clutched  herself  in  a  spasm  of  nervousness  and 
shook  herself  until  the  pearls  rattled  on  her  collar 
bones,  and  Coralie  was  afraid  that  the  pink  dress 
would  fall  away  from  the  poor  thin  shoulders  with 
inevitable  disaster.  But  she  was  not  going  to  have 
Aunt  Jane's  fun  spoilt  for  her  if  she  could  help  it; 
and  she  dashed  bravely  to  the  rescue. 

"Isn't  she  real  fine,  granma? — That's  one  of  her 
trousseau  dresses — who  would  think  it? — Isn't  it  a 
lovely  pink!  I  reckon  you  must  have  chosen  that 


292        DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

pink,  granma.  And  do  you  see  she's  wearing  her 
pearls? — Do  drop  your  arms,  Aunt  J.,  so  that  peo- 
ple can  admire  you !  " 

"  Her  pearls  ?  "  questioned  Lady  Enniscorthy,  in- 
terest and  curiosity  diverting  her  from  her  first 
impulse  of  fulminating  disapproval;  the  hawk 
glance  sought,  through  the  eyeglass,  a  different 
object. 

"  Yes,  Uncle  Challoner  brought  them  down  him- 
self." 

"Wasn't  it  kind  of  him?"  murmured  Jane,  dep- 
recatingly.  Her  timid  hands,  seeking  the  top  of 
each  elbow  again,  were  arrested  midway,  as  her  niece 
tweaked  her  gown  warningly  from  behind.  But  sur- 
prise had  now  swamped  all  other  sensation  in  the 
maternal  brain.  Lady  Enniscorthy  even  permitted 
the  statement  that  dear  Caractacus  was  always  so 
thoughtful,  to  pass  unnoticed. 

"  Challoner !  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  He's  here,"  said  Coralie. 

And,  rubbing  his  hands  with  a  dry,  crackling 
sound  (he  had  just  washed  them  in  his  nephew's 
dressing-room,  though  with  high  disapproval  of  the 
Vinolia  soap),  the  elderly  peer  in  question  made  his 
entrance  into  the  room. 

"  Challoner  .  .  .  ? "  repeated  Lady  Ennis- 
corthy, as  if  she  could  not  credit  her  eyes. 

"  He's  going  to  honour  us  by  staying  for  the 
dance,"  said  Lady  Gertrude. 

"  Hullo,  my  lady — evening,"  said  the  newcomer, 
nodding  to  his  redoubtable  mother-in-law.  "  Wife 


ONENIGHT  293 

invited,  husband  invited,  I  take  it,  eh  ? — The  General 
has  promised  to  see  that  I  get  a  lift  back  in  some- 
body's car. — Ha — ha.  Ruinous  nonsense,  motor- 
cars ;  but  I  score  there,  eh,  my  lady  ?  Didn't  take  a 
return  ticket  on  the  chance !  "  he  chuckled ;  then 
wheeled  upon  the  ecstatic  Jane :  "  But  I  won't  stay 
later  than  twelve.  My  lady  there  will  have  to  give 
up  her  finery — Hey?  My  lady  looks  well,  don't 
she?  " 

The  Dowager  shifted  her  eyeglass  to  contemplate 
her  daughter  afresh;  then  fixed  the  proud  husband 
once  more.  She  was  shaken  with  a  dry  laugh,  and 
folded  her  lips  upon  some  unspoken  comment. 

They  had  assembled  in  the  library  before  dinner — 
the  drawing-rooms  being  cleared  for  the  dancers. 
Gertrude  had  kept  to  the  family  party,  resisting  the 
temptation  to  invite  young  Enniscorthy  to  join  the 
meal.  It  was  better,  she  thought,  that  the  young 
things  should  meet  each  other  again  in  more  easy 
circumstances  than  the  half-hour  before  dinner  would 
be  likely  to  afford  them. 

Now  the  General  rushed  in,  with  many  apologies 
for  late  appearance. 

"  Kept  at  the  War  Office,  I  suppose  ?  "  said  Lady 
Enniscorthy  with  a  twinkle.  Yet  she  looked  at  him 
benignly:  the  War  Office  had  suddenly  become  a 
virtuous  institution. 

"  You're  not  the  last,"  said  his  wife.  **  Mrs. 
Lancelot  has  not  yet  made  her  appearance." 

The  Dowager,  alert  with  amusement  and  curiosity, 
sat  very  straight  in  her  chair,  her  glasses  fixed  upon 


294        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

the  door.  When  the  widow  at  length  tripped  in,  it 
was  under  an  observation  so  concentrated,  so  relent- 
less and  minute,  while  she  had  to  traverse  the  whole 
length  of  the  room,  that  it  might  well  have  made  her 
falter.  But  Emerald  was  not  of  those  whom  scrutiny 
embarrasses.  She  could  not  conceive  herself  creating 
an  impression  other  than  flattering;  from  the  oppo- 
site sex  overwhelming  admiration  was  her  due ;  from 
her  own,  if  not  approval,  then  the  envy  of  the  out- 
shone. 

Above  all,  to-night  she  trod  with  the  assurance  of 
a  goddess. 

She  had  emerged  completely  from  mourning,  un- 
less, with  a  touch  peculiarly  her  own,  the  black 
ribbon,  silver  fringed,  which  she  had  tied  above  her 
right  elbow,  could  be  regarded  as  a  lingering  token 
of  regret. 

Immediately  upon  her  arrival  in  London,  strong 
in  her  confidence  in  her  preux's  substantial  attach- 
ment, she  had  ordered  herself  some  new  raiment  from 
a  firm  in  Hanover  Square,  well-known  for  its  "  emo- 
tional creations."  Among  other  things,  Emerald 
Fanny  had  selected  a  garment  entitled  "  passion's 
effervescence."  The  leading  idea  was  pink,  and  there- 
upon passion  effervesced  with  more  sequins,  frills  and 
streamers  than  it  were  possible  to  describe ;  the  em- 
erald collar  bringing  a  new  and  rich  note  into  the 
blushing  tenderness  of  scheme.  Emerald  Fanny  had 
further  boldly  accentuated  this  note  by  a  bird-of- 
paradise  plume,  of  the  same  hopeful  hue,  which  waved 
back  from  her  classically  dressed  head  with  an  ironic 


ONENIGHT  295 

reminiscence  of  her  picturesque  widowhood  and  its 
gauzy  streamers. 

As  she  moved,  she  clinked  and  shimmered,  rustled 
and  glittered;  and  Lady  Enniscorthy  surveyed  her 
without  a  muscle  relaxing  in  her  severe  old  face. 

The  General  looked,  gave  one  swift  glance  at  his 
wife,  and  dropped  his  eyes.  Gertrude,  preparing 
for  her  new  duties  of  chaperonage,  was  almost  too 
severely  simple  in  her  garb  that  evening.  But  how 
grateful  was  the  image  of  that  noble,  statuesque 
figure  in  its  dove-grey  draping,  unrelieved  save  for 
a  single  slender  diamond  crescent  at  the  breast, 
without  an  inch  of  trimming  or  even  lace  to  mar  the 
perfect  flowing  line,  compared  to  this  exuberance  of 
fashionable  adornment. 

"  Petite  madame  "  halted  on  the  edge  of  the  wait- 
ing circle,  and  her  hostess,  with  her  usual  friendly, 
yet  distant,  urbanity,  performed  the  necessary  intro- 
duction. Coralie,  listening  somewhat  nervously  for 
the  General's  interposition  and  the  familiar  reference 
"  to  the  kind  nurse,  who  saved  my  life,"  was  grateful 
to  hear  the  ceremony  conducted  without  comment. 

But  not  so  the  widow;  her  large  eyes  began  to 
roam  from  host  to  hostess,  with  a  kind  of  pained 
surprise ;  and,  in  the  silence  which  followed  Lady  En- 
niscorthy's  grave,  "  How  do  you  do  ?  "  she  herself 
dropped  a  melodious,  insidiously  plaintive  sentence: 

"  I'm  afraid  you  must  be  sick  of  my  name,  Lady 
Enniscorthy.  These  dear  people  attach  such  undue 
importance  to  the  little  I  was  able  to  do  for  Sir 
Reginald  when  he  was  so  dreadfully  ill  in  India." 


29(3       DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

The  voice  suddenly  trembled;  the  pathetic  glance 
became  misted  over;  but,  alas!  mon  preux  (ungrate- 
ful wretch !  )  persistently  gazed  at  his  boots,  and 
Lady  Enniscorthy  (a  most  unpleasant  old  lady) 
had,  on  the  other  hand,  a  blankness  of  regard  that 
no  sensitive  eye  could  meet.  And  even  Norah  (base 
little  thing !)  had  no  glance  to  spare  from  her  own 
reflection  in  the  glass.  Only  upon  Ernest  Jamieson's 
countenance  was  there  a  gleam  of  sympathy  and 
compassion.  Pshaw!  was  it  possible  that  Emerald 
should  be  reduced  to  Ernest  Jamieson? 

"  My  dear,"  said  the  Dowager,  clutching  Coralie's 
arm,  under  pretence  of  needing  its  support,  as  she 
hoisted  herself  out  of  her  chair  upon  the  announce- 
ment of  dinner,  "  my  dear,  even  my  poor  crazy 
Jane  looks  respectable  beside  that  pantomime 
queen." 


Ill 

BEFORE  any  of  the  dancers  could  possibly  be  ex- 
pected, Norah  began  to  watch  the  door  for  Ennis- 
corthy.  She  thus  had  an  unnecessary  hour  of  pal- 
pitation and  disappointment,  which  wrote  itself  in 
pallor  and  fretful  line  upon  her  face.  When  the 
guests  began  to  arrive,  and  still  the  young  man  failed 
to  appear,  a  furious  tornado  of  misery  took  posses- 
sion of  the  girl's  undisciplined  soul,  all  the  more 
devastating,  perhaps,  that  she  had  to  put  restraint 
upon  herself  and  help  her  mother  to  receive,  forcing 
a  smile  on  lips  that  felt  cold  and  stiff.  As  waltz- 
tune  after  waltz-tune  swung  out  on  the  air,  and  the 
minutes  of  her  golden  evening  slipped  by  unfulfilled, 
she  could  have  screamed  aloud  with  exasperation. 

Lady  Gertrude's  countenance  of  unshadowed  pla- 
cidity, her  father's  genial  mirth — Sir  Reginald  was 
able  to  be  jocose  again;  he  actually  felt  light- 
hearted  enough  to-night  to  pay  marked  attention 
to  the  pretty  wife  of  a  recently  married  Grenadier — 
even  the  beatific  expression  with  which  poor  Jane 
watched  the  employment  of  the  young  generation, 
seemed  to  add  to  the  unendurable  burden.  As  for 
Emerald  Fanny,  never  would  Norah  trust  woman 
more !  She  had  early  disappeared  into  the  conserva- 
tory with  a  spruce  and  exceedingly  young  soldier; 
and  her  laugh  might  be  heard  tinkling  out  ever  and 

297 


DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

anon  in  the  intervals  of  the  music.  She  could  laugh 
while  a  friend's  heart  was  breaking — so  little  cared 
she!  And  there  was  a  buzzing  little  group  round 
Coralie!  And  Cousin  Ernest  had  made  her  promise 
to  give  him  the  next  waltz !  Could  any  debutante's 
cup  of  misery  be  more  full? 

"  My  dear,"  said  Gertrude  in  a  low  voice,  "  it  is 
quite  time  for  you  to  begin  to  dance. — My  little 
Norah,"  she  added,  lower  still,  "  people  will  wonder 
to  see  you  with  such  a  cross  face." 

Nearer  to  the  subject  of  her  daughter's  disap- 
pointment she  could  not,  in  her  own  curious  reserve, 
allow  herself  to  come.  But  Norah,  who  little  guessed 
how  keenly  the  mother  was  suffering  with  her, 
thought  this  remark  the  acme  of  cruelty.  She  flung 
one  glance  of  indignant  reproach  upon  the  speaker, 
and  darted  from  her  side.  Not,  however,  to  obey 
the  maternal  behest,  but,  taking  the  stairs  two  steps 
at  a  time,  to  rush  to  the  refuge  of  her  own  room, 
where  she  could  cry  in  peace. 

Emerald  Fanny,  coming  in  from  the  conservatory 
to  favour  her  completely  subjugated  youth  with  a 
waltz,  caught  sight  of  the  flying  white  figure;  but 
it  is  quite  possible  that  friendship  would  not  have 
impelled  her  to  follow  and  console,  had  not  Ennis- 
corthy  himself  walked  in  at  the  hall  door  the  moment 
after. 

Then  she  felt  indeed  all  the  claims  of  devoted  at- 
tachment; and,  only  pausing  to  promise  her  new 
adorer  supper  and  an  extra  dance,  glided  upstairs 
after  the  fugitive. 


ONENIGHT  299 

"  Who's  there  ?  "  cried  Norah,  as  the  door  opened 
after  a  perfunctory  tap.  "  Oh,  Emerald !  "  Tones 
of  relief  succeeded  sharpness,  as  the  dulcet,  "  It  is  I, 
darling,"  was  breathed  into  the  darkness. 

The  poor  child's  sore  heart  leaped  to  the  little  com- 
fort :  after  all,  someone  did  care !  Yet  she  could  not 
endure  that  even  so  close  a  friend  should  see  the  al- 
ready tear-stained  face. 

"  Don't — don't  turn  on  the  light,"  she  cried  with 
sobbing  breath,  and  then  mendaciously  added: 
"  I've  got  such  a  headache." 

But  Emerald  Fanny  disregarded  the  injunction. 
Light  flooded  the  room  under  her  decided  finger; 
then  she  came  up  to  the  girl,  who,  outstretched  on 
the  bed,  had  pettishly  hidden  her  face  in  the  pillow, 
and  gently  forced  her  to  raise  it. 

"  You  darling  little  goose     .     .     .     he's  come !  " 

There  was  no  pandering  to  maidenly  pride  in  the 
widow's  code;  but  she  had,  nevertheless,  ideas  of 
diplomacy.  As  the  girl  sat  up,  radiant  again, 
brushing  the  moisture  from  her  eyes,  and  evidently 
prepared  to  dash  back  to  the  ballroom,  Mrs.  Lance- 
lot arrested  her. 

"  Listen,  my  darling,  and  believe  that  I  have 
your  interests  at  heart.  I  think  " — the  widow's  eyes 
suffused — "  you  know  that  I  love  you.  I  think  I 
have  proved  it." 

"  Indeed,  you  have ! "  cried  the  other,  with  a  hug. 
She  believed  it,  poor  child.  Almost  it  seemed,  in 
the  revulsion  of  her  joy,  that  she  owed  it  all  to  this 
bringer  of  the  good  news. 


300        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

"  Your  young  man  is  shamefully  late,"  proceeded 
the  counsellor,  "  and  it  would  never  do  for  you  to 
show  him  how  you've  been  watching  and  waiting  for 
him." 

Norah  winced,  and  pressed  her  hands  to  her  hot 
cheeks. 

"  It  never  does,  my  darling,  to  let  men  see  how 
much  you  care  for  them,"  went  on  the  voice,  drop- 
ping into  pathos.  "  We  must  make  our  young  friend 
feel  a  little  bit  in  disgrace.  Let  him  wait  for  his 
dances ;  he'll  be  all  the  more  eager  for  them.  Since 
he  was  not  here  in  time  to  secure  them,  show  him 
that  others  are  not  so  remiss  .  .  .  make  him  just 
a  little  ...  a  little  jealous,  my  sweet  one.  I 
know  my  Norah  can  turn  anybody's  head  she  likes, 
with  one  glance  of  her  wicked  eyes.  Come,  you  must 
be  engaged  three  deep  already?  What!  You  were 
keeping  all  your  dances  for  Enn !  Oh,  tut,  tut,  tut ! 
my  little  darling,  it  is  well  you  have  a  friend!  Let 
me  see  now — we  must  remedy  that.  No,  that  won't 
do  at  all — I  have  it !  If  you  wait  in  the  hall,  I  will 
tell  Sir  Duncan  Silver — did  you  see  that  nice  boy  I 
was  dancing  with?  He  will  do  anything  for  me — 
to  introduce  four  or  five  of  his  brother  officers  to 
you  at  once.  (He's  in  the  Grenadiers,  you  know.) 
And  about  the  second  dance  after  supper  it  will  be 
time  enough  to  forgive  his  lordship. — Now,  where 
are  you  going?  " 

"  Down  to  the  ballroom,  as  you  say,"  responded 
Norah,  turning  with  a  fiercely  determined  air  upon 
her  friend.  The  widow  gave  a  little  scream. 


O  N  E     N  I G  H  T  301 

"  My  dear !  Like  that  ?  And  let  everyone  see 
you've  been  crying?  Master  Enn  won't  need  to  be 
told  whom  for!  Not  at  all,  you  poor  babe,  you're 
just  coming  into  my  room — and  when  I've  done  with 
you  .  .  .  well,  you'll  see ! " 

Norah  clung  to  Emerald's  arm  as  they  went  along 
the  passage  together;  and  Emerald  felt  that  she 
richly  deserved  the  confidence  and  gratitude  she  was 
inspiring.  Not  only  had  she  given  up  an  hour  of 
promising  flirtation,  but  she  was  disinterestedly  de- 
voting herself  to  the  bringing  of  two  foolish  young 
people  together.  Out  of  her  own  experience  and 
wisdom  she  was  advising  her  friend.  The  height  of 
abnegation  was  reached  when,  as  she  sat  the  girl 
down  before  the  mirror  and  began  shaking  a  bottle 
of  milky-looking  liquid  with  experienced  hand,  she 
proceeded : 

"You  can  flirt  with  Sir  Duncan  as  much  as  ever 
you  like — you  will  find  him  very  responsive." 

"  What  are  you  doing?  "  cried  Norah,  her  interest 
more  excited  by  Emerald's  action  than  by  her  words. 

"  Going  to  make  my  Norah  fit  to  be  seen  again," 
said  the  unselfish  widow,  and  poured  some  of  the 
liquid  on  to  a  little  square  of  chamois  leather. 

When  Emerald  gave  Norah  permission  to  look  at 
herself  in  the  glass  at  last,  the  girl  gave  a  gasp. 
To  the  girl's  unsophisticated  eye  the  result  was 
amazing.  She  gazed  and  gazed  again.  Was  this 
herself?  Norah,  schoolgirl  Norah?  This  being  of 
dazzling  tints,  rose  and  lily  and  gold — for  her  hair, 


308       DIAMONDS    CUT    PASTE 

over  the  pink  and  white  face,  shone  well-nigh  as 
startlingly  golden  as  Emerald's  own.  Norah  had 
never  realised  that  her  eyebrows  were  so  dark.  The 
tears  she  had  shed  no  doubt  accounted  for  the 
shadows  under  her  eyes,  which  threw  these  orbs  into 
such  brilliant  relief.  The  lips,  parted  in  astonish- 
ment, were  scarlet  as  the  geranium ;  and,  culminating 
triumph  to  seventeen !  she  looked  years  older  than  the 
girl  of  half-an-hour  ago. 

Her  friend  surveyed  her,  in  her  artless  surprise, 
with  an  air  of  mingled  amusement  and  satisfaction. 

"  Ah,  you  never  knew  your  own  loveliness  till  now, 
my  Norah !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  The  merest  touch  and 
you  are  .  .  .  what  you  see.  What  a  sensation 
you  will  make  when  you  return  to  the  ballroom! 
There's  not  a  creature  here,"  cried  the  magnanimous 
Emerald,  "  able  to  hold  a  candle  to  you.  Oh,  I 
shall  be  watching  someone's  face !  But  wait  a  min- 
ute !  "  She  paused  and  doubtfully  contemplated  the 
simple,  straight  white  dress,  with  its  priceless  scarf  of 
lace  for  sole  adornment.  "  It's  beautifully  made,  of 
course,"  she  went  on,  "  but  it  wants — oh,  some~ 
thing,  to  draw  the  eye  a  little.  .  .  .  Wait,  I 
know!" 

She  plunged  into  the  recesses  of  her  cupboard  and 
drew  forth  a  large  cardboard  box. 

"  They  were  selling  off  at  Woodland's  as  I  passed 
through  town,  and  I  couldn't  resist  laying  in  a  little 
stock — though  my  time  for  wearing  these  very  bright 
colours  has  not  yet  struck.  Look!  Isn't  this  a 
dream?  " 


ONENIGHT  303 

She  held  up  a  mass  of  flaming  poppies  with  long 
dependent  streamers  of  buds;  in  her  turn,  Norah's 
expression  became  one  of  doubt. 

"  Isn't  it — isn't  it  rather  too  red  ?  "  she  faltered. 

For  all  answer  Emerald  held  the  flowers  against 
the  girl's  breast,  and  Norah,  consulting  the  mirror, 
gasped  again.  It  was  inexplicable,  yet  a  fact. 
Against  the  blaze  of  scarlet,  the  rose  and  the  white 
and  the  gold  that  she  had  just  admired  so  wonder- 
ingly  in  herself,  became  yet  more  dazzling — yet 
more  accentuated. 

"  I'll  wear  them !  "  she  cried.  A  strange  sense  of 
exhilaration  came  over  her.  She  gazed  at  her  own 
reflection  again  and  again ;  and  every  time  it  was  as 
if  she  drank  strong  wine. 

There  was  a  really  unselfish  joy  in  the  other's 
countenance  as  she  watched.  She  had  seldom  car- 
ried through  so  altruistic  an  action.  Had  she  not 
actually  laboured  to  make  another  more  beautiful 
than  herself,  and  had  she  not  accomplished  her  work 
with  due  artistic  reticence?  She  did  not  perceive — 
and  had  she  done  so  could  not  have  been  held  re- 
sponsible for  the  fact — that  Norah's  natural  tints 
being  so  vivid,  the  first  touch  of  paint  upon  her 
countenance  had  thrown  the  whole  harmony  of  na- 
ture out  of  balance.  The  dark  eyebrows  and  the 
glorious  ruddy  gold  of  the  hair  had  been  fittingly 
united  with  wild  rose  cheek ;  but  with  Blanc  de  Ninon 
and  liquid  rouge,  however  delicately  applied,  they 
held  no  kinship.  Instantly  Norah's  locks  had  as- 
sumed a  glitter  as  of  dye;  the  whole  young,  soft 


304       DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

face  had  taken  on  the  something  bold,  hard,  challeng- 
ing— the  toll  which  beauty  pays  to  artifice. 

Mrs.  Lancelot  was  genuine  in  her  admiration  of 
her  own  handicraft ;  but  hers  was  of  the  type  of  mind, 
and  there  are  many  such,  who  consider  such  results 
as  an  undeniable  improvement. 

"  You're  perfect ! "  she  exclaimed  in  rapture ;  then 
gently  pushed  her  friend  on  one  side  to  perform  a 
little  dexterous  manipulation  on  her  own  account, 
and  declared  that  it  was  time  for  them  to  go  down. 

But  the  sight  of  the  box  of  flowers  tossed  open  on 
the  table  became  the  source  of  a  fresh  inspiration; 
one  that  could  only  have  sprung  in  Emerald  Fanny's 
brain. 

"  One  moment,  my  darling !  "  she  cried,  nipped  a 
bunch  of  deep  blue  cornflowers  out  of  its  tissue  paper, 
and  pinned  it  in  among  the  poppies. 

"  Oh  ...  do  you  like  that  ? "  exclaimed 
Norah  doubtfully. 

"  Some  one  will,"  assured  the  widow,  with  her  arch- 
ness; linked  her  arm  into  that  of  her  friend,  and 
hurried  her  from  the  room. 

It  never  dawned  upon  Gertrude  Esdale's  daughter 
that  the  final  note  to  her  attractiveness  was  to  be 
struck  that  night  by  the  flaunting  of  the  Guard's 
colours. 


IV 

SIR  DUNCAN  fell  in  with  Mrs.  Lancelot's  self-sacri- 
ficing project  with  an  alacrity  that  she  had  perhaps 
scarcely  anticipated.  The  young  gentleman  had  al- 
ready found  his  ideal  at  the  Aldwych  Theatre; 
Emerald  had  somewhat  consoled  him  for  an  evening 
passed  away  from  the  company  of  his  charmer  (to 
oblige  Enniscorthy — Enniscorthy  was  a  chap  whom 
he  wished  to  oblige,  though  he  did  not  often  get  the 
chance)  ;  but  Norah — he  wondered  how  it  was  that  he 
hadn't  noticed  such  a  deuced  pretty  girl  when  he 
came  in.  Miss  Esdale  was  a  "  ripper  "  and  no  mis- 
take. In  fact,  before  he  had  finished  his  first  dance 
with  the  daughter  of  the  house,  Sir  Duncan  had 
begun  to  ask  himself  whether  Norah — already  he 
had  been  informed  that  her  name  was  Norah — was 
not  just  as  good  fun  as  his  adored  Esme,  of  the 
Aldwych. 

Enniscorthy  was  seated  by  the  Dowager,  gazing 
with  grave  eyes  on  the  whirling  couples.  Lady  En- 
niscorthy, her  keen  glance  fixed  on  his  face,  had  an 
indulgent  smile  for  the  vague  answers  he  gave  to  all 
her  searching  questions.  She  guessed  whom  he  was 
looking  for,  with  that  earnest  glance  of  his ;  and  she 
was  not  displeased  that  her  granddaughter  should 

80S 


306        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

not  seem  too  eager  to  greet  the  acknowledged  parti, 
who  had  made  his  appearance  so  late.  The  child 
was  probably  sitting  out  somewhere,  or  strolling  on 
the  terrace;  and  if  the  youth  was  growing  anxious, 
and  jealous,  it  was  no  more  than  he  deserved.  He 
showed  no  disposition  to  dance  with  anyone  else, 
which  was  a  sign  of  grace.  So  the  quizzical  eye  she 
kept  upon  him  was  full  of  benevolence ;  and  when  she 
saw  him  start  slightly,  a  deep  colour  welling  to  his 
cheek,  and  thereafter  cast  down  his  eyes,  she  chuc- 
kled to  herself.  She  put  up  her  eyeglass. 

"  We  know  pretty  well  who  has  come  in,"  she 
thought. 

But  as  she  looked,  the  pleasant  smile  became  frozen 
on  her  lips.  She  clutched  the  tortoiseshell  handle 
between  her  fingers  convulsively,  and  stared  again 
as  if,  by  staring,  she  could  alter  the  reality  of  what 
she  beheld.  Then,  with  one  of  her  surprisingly 
youthful  movements,  she  turned  upon  Lady  Jane, 
who  sat  upon  her  other  side,  and  rapped  the  thin 
arm  nearest  to  her. 

"  Will  you  have  the  kindness  to  tell  me,  is  that  my 
granddaughter  Norah  ?  " 

Jane,  roused  from  her  beatific  contemplation  of  the 
dance,  turned  a  startled  countenance  upon  her  mother. 
Her  spangled  tiara  inclined  towards  her  left  eye,  and 
those  irrepressible  sandy  locks  of  hers  were  beginning 
to  make  their  familiar  way  down  her  temples.  But 
for  her  the  evening,  so  far,  had  been  an  unalloyed 
success.  She  had  herself  twice  "  taken  the  floor," 
and  she  had  more  than  her  usual  difficulty  in  bring- 


ONENIGHT  307 

ing  her  mind,  wandering  in  a  kind  of  rapturous  mist, 
to  the  point  in  question. 

Her  mother,  with  an  impatient  gesture,  altered 
her  demand: 

"  Tell  Gertrude  to  come  and  speak  to  me  in- 
stantly ! " 

Jane  rose  with  her  usual  submissiveness,  stood  a 
second  helplessly  hugging  herself,  and  was  about  to 
start  upon  her  errand,  when,  with  much  noise  of 
laughter  and  talk,  and  some  unnecessary  vigour  of 
step,  Norah  and  her  partner  waltzed  up  to  them  and 
halted.  A  natural  carmine  had  added  itself  to  the 
artificial  roses  of  the  girl's  cheeks.  She  was  panting, 
and  her  teeth  gleamed  between  the  exotic  red  of  the 
lips.  She  flung  a  look  of  mingled  triumph  and 
coquetry  at  Enniscorthy,  who  rose  slowly.  And, 
fatuously  surveying  her,  Sir  Duncan  thought 
again : 

"  By  Jove,  she  is  a  ripper !  " 

He  was  a  recent  addition  to  the  regiment — the 
son  of  a  man  who  had  made  his  money.  He  vainly 
endeavoured  to  win  popularity  by  his  lavishness  and 
good  fellowship.  But  already  his  brother  officers 
had  nicknamed  him  "  Electro  Plate  "  and  "  Nickel 
Silver  "  and  the  length  of  his  service  among  them 
was  likely  to  be  limited.  Now  Enniscorthy  had  a  side 
glance  for  him,  and  a  side  thought :  "  The  fellow 
won't  do — I  never  thought  he  would."  But  for  the 
rest  all  the  energies  of  his  mind  were  fixed  on  Norah. 
From  crimson,  he  had  grown  very  pale;  and  there 
was  no  answering  word  on  his  lips,  no  answering 


308       DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

sparkle  in  his  eye,  as  he  took  her  hand.  He  looked 
from  the  blazing  flowers  at  her  breast  to  the  blazing 
cheeks,  the  loosened  hair;  and  a  kind  of  severe  won- 
der grew  upon  his  face. 

Lady  Enniscorthy,  glaring  through  her  eyeglass 
— never  before  had  the  petted  grandchild  encoun- 
tered that  look — gave  to  her  nose  its  most  awfu] 
hook,  and  remarked: 

"  I  was  just  asking  who  you  were  my  dear — I  air 
not  quite  sure,  yet,  if  I  know — we  don't  seem  to  b« 
able  to  get  out  of  the  pantomime  atmosphere  to- 
night." With  a  scathing  glance  across  the  room  al 
Emerald  Fanny's  waving  feathers :  "  This  is  a  per- 
fect transformation." 

She  was  interrupted.  Jane  had  been  contemplating 
her  niece  with  an  air  of  dismay.  In  spite  of  her  owr 
odd  taste  for  scraps  of  finery,  and  her  hopeless  pro- 
pensity for  bedizening  herself,  none  could  be  quickei 
than  Jane  to  see  when  taste  was  outraged. 

"  Oh,  my  dear,  my  dear,  what  have  you  done  tc 
yourself?  And  dear  Gertrude  had  you  dressed  sc 
sweetly,  with  your  lace  scarf  and  your  dear  little 
white  frock! — Did  you  say  there  was  going  to  b( 
private  theatricals,  mamma?  Of  course,  that  doe! 
make  a  difference,  but  I  don't  think  that  dear  littl< 
Norah  ought  to  be  allowed  to  go  about  like  this 
Dear  me,  I  hope  she'll  soon  change  her  costume." 

"  And  wash  her  face ! "  said  the  terrible  Lady  En- 
niscorthy. 

Norah's  head  was  promptly  tossed,  with  the  fa- 
miliar defiance. 


ONENIGHT  309 

"  Seeing  you  so  grand,  Aune  Jane,"  she  cried  in- 
solently, "  I  didn't  want  to  be  put  in  the  shade ! " 

Sir  Duncan,  who  had  been  stifling  an  inconven- 
ient sense  of  humour,  was  here  so  overcome  that  he 
had  to  turn  his  back. 

"  Upon  my  word  ...  ! "  said  Lady  Ennis- 
corthy. 

Enniscorthy  took  a  step  towards  his  cousin. 

"  Will  you  give  me  the  next  dance,"  he  asked  in 
a  low  voice. 

Here  was  Norah's  opportunity.  She  was  tingling 
with  the  bitter  anger  of  humiliation.  Her  grand- 
mother's words  were  buzzing  in  her  ears.  She  could 
have  struck  her  lover  for  the  disapproval  of  his  eyes. 
If  he  did  not  admire  she  would  show  him  that  there 
were  plenty  who  did. 

"  I  am  engaged,"  she  cried,  with  an  affected 
laugh.  "  Engaged  about  ten  deep.  But  I'll  see  if 
I  can  spare  you  one  after  supper." 

"  You'll  have  to  keep  your  weather  eye  open,  old 
man,"  said  Sir  Duncan,  facetiously,  "  then  perhaps 
you  may  get  a  look  in." 

Enniscorthy  bowed  gravely  to  Norah,  and  sat 
down  again  beside  the  Dowager,  without  vouchsafing 
a  glance  on  the  temporary  Guardsman. 

"  Oh,  I  say,"  said  the  latter,  as  he  whisked  Norah 
away,  "  who  is  the  queer  old  party  in  pink  ?  " 

The  girl's  answer  was  inaudible ;  but  her  face  was 
eloquent  in  its  pert  gaiety  as  she  answered,  and  so 
was  the  guffaw  which  followed. 

Jane  turned  and  looked  at  her  mother      There 


310        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

were  tears  in  her  kind,  vague  eyes.  She  sat  down  in 
a  huddled,  helpless  kind  of  way,  and  Enniscorthy's 
heart  moved  hot  within  him,  as  he  marked  the  trem- 
bling of  her  lip.  To  be  unkind  to  Cousin  Jane  was 
like  striking  a  child. 

"  Upon  my  word,"  said  Lady  Enniscorthy  again 
— then  her  wrath  exploded.  "  This  is  what  comes  of 
Gertrude's  ultra  cleverness!  This  is  the  final  result 
of  her  system  of  education !  First  she  leaves  her  hus- 
band a  prey  to  an  adventuress,  and  then,  instead  of 
decently  accepting  the  situation,  she  asks  the  crea- 
ture under  the  same  roof  as  her  daughter ! " 

The  old  lady's  eyes  were  fixed  on  space ;  she  seemed 
to  be  addressing  neither  Enniscorthy  nor  her  daugh- 
ter. Across  her,  the  glances  of  the  young  man  and 
of  poor  Jane  met  in  a  strange  sympathy;  both 
were  full  of  pain  and  perplexity.  Then  Jane  fal- 
tered : 

"Do  you  want  to  speak  to  Gertrude,  dear 
mamma?" 

But  the  Dowager  answered : 

"  No.     Let  her  go  her  own  way !  " 

And  this,  Jane  thought,  was  the  most  terrible 
of  all. 

Coralie,  emerging  from  the  conservatory  on  the 
arm  of  her  husband — she  had  been  having  a  "  reel 
balmy  little  time  "  with  that  devoted  being — blink- 
ing more  than  usual  as  she  came  into  the  brightness 
from  the  dim  shadowy  spaces,  nearly  fell  across  Frau- 
lein,  who  sat  just  inside  the  door,  half-hidden  by  a 
palm.  The  German  sprang  to  her  feet. 


ONENIGHT  311 

"  Ach,  tear  Mrs.  Chamieson,  I  have  been  watching 
for  you ! " 

Trottsky  was  in  gala  attire ;  her  black  silk  dress 
was  of  the  stiffest,  shiniest  description;  round  her 
neck  she  had  a  frill  of  lace  and  a  large  bright  blue 
bow.  But  her  countenance  was  far  from  matching 
this  festive  display.  It  was  pinched  with  anxiety 
and  drawn  into  a  hundred  distressful  wrinkles. 

"Ach,  Mrs.  Chamieson,  have  you  seen?" 

"Seen  what?" 

"  The  child ! "  gasped  Fraulein,  and  wrung  her 
little  hands  under  their  frills  of  crotchet  lace. 

"  Norah  ?  "  questioned  Coralie ;  then  she  glanced 
at  Fraulein's  face  again  and  gave  Ernest  a  little 
push.  "  Just  you  get  a  seat  for  me  in  the  supper- 
room,  honey.  A  little  table  for  us  two  if  you 
can. — I'll  join  you  in  a  moment. — Now,  what's 
happened? "  She  turned  on  the  lamenting  gov- 
erness. 

"  Ach,  I  do  not  know.     But  Norah,  Norah !  " 

Coralie  peered  into  the  dancing  throng.  "  But 
what's  happened?  "  she  repeated. 

"  I  think  she  is  mad,"  moaned  Fraulein,  and 
plumped  down  into  her  seat  again.  "  Forgive  that 
I  sit,  dear  Mrs.  Chamieson,  I  have  such  a  tremble  of 
the  knees ! — Ach,  I  am  too  weak  for  these  shocks — 
and  Lord  Enniscorthy  .  . 

"  Are  they  not  together?  "  interrupted  Coralie, 
with  increased  anxiety.  "  Oh,  Fraulein,  do  tell  me 
what  it  is  all  about  ?  " 

"  Together?  "  cried  the  other  with  a  squeak.  "  No 


DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

— not  together.  Nor  will  he  be  together  with  her," 
she  went  on  in  ungrammatical  misery,  "  whilst  she 
looks  so ! —  "  She  clenched  a  small  bony  fist  and 
shook  it.  "  It  is  all  that  other  woman !  See  what 
she  makes  of  my  Norah — a  regular  mink !  " 

The  little  crowd  which,  with  the  capriciousness  of 
the  ballroom  tide,  had  gathered  close  before  them, 
now  parted  and  glided  away  to  the  last  reprise  of  the 
waltz. 

"  Look ! "  cried  the  German,  pointing  a  dramatic 
finger  after  the  fashion  in  which  she  would  have  said 
"  Pfui!  "  to  a  recalcitrant  pupil. 

Coralie  looked 

"  Oh,  my  goodness ! "  she  exclaimed  weakly. 

Norah,  fanning  herself  with  a  vast  amount  of 
artificial  grace,  stood  framed  against  the  darkness 
of  a  wide-opened  window  opposite.  A  persistent 
breeze  was  frolicking  amid  her  loosened  hair;  and 
ever  and  again  she  jerked  her  head  to  keep  some 
tendril  from  her  eyes,  with  an  air  of  self-conscious- 
ness that  matched  only  too  well  the  high  metallic 
sound  of  her  voice  and  laughter.  She  was  surrounded 
by  four  or  five  young  men,  all  apparently  engaged 
in  that  pleasant  exercise  of  wit  called  "  chaffing." 
In  one  glance  Coralie  took  in  the  whole  extent  of  the 
disaster  which  had  befallen  the  hopes  of  Orange 
Court:  the  rouged  cheek,  the  blackened  eyebrow,  the 
blue  and  red  flowers,  with  their  crude  meaning — 
'  Norah,  whom  she  had  last  seen  in  her  pure  white,  as 
distinguished  as  she  was  now  "  second-rate " ;  as 
modest  as  she  was  now  flaunting;  as  lovely  in  her 


ONENIGHT  313 

vivid  natural  colouring  as  she  was  now  artificial  and 
theatrical ! 

The  expression  on  the  countenances  of  the  youths 
about  the  girl  did  not  escape  the  shrewd  American; 
nor  the  fact  that  one  of  them — he  had  a  fatuous 
smile — wore,  dependent  from  his  button-hole,  a  poppy 
and  a  cornflower  that  had  evidently  fallen  from  the 
great  dishevelled  bunch  that  vulgarised  Norah's 
dress. 

"  But  she  can't  be  allowed  to  make  a  little  guy 
of  herself  like  that,"  exclaimed  Coralie,  hotly; 
"  someone  must  speak  to  her." 

Fraulein  wagged  her  head  with  tragic  gusto. 

"  The  General,  just  now,  he  catch  her  by  the  arm 
and  whispered,  so  sharp.  '  Go  wash  your  face ! '  he 
said.  And  Norah,  she  toss  her  head  and  off  she 
whisked  with  one  of  those  treadful  young  chentlemen. 
What  can  one  do  beste  Mrs.  Chamieson?  She  is  not 
a  little  child  any  more  that  one  can  pick  up,  and  slap 
and  put  to  bed.  And  her  mother  she  looks  at  her, 
now  and  again,  so  sadly.  Once  she  speaks  to  her 
too,  gently  in  the  ear,  as  she  go  by.  And  the 
naughty  one  toss  her  head. — And  those  young  chen- 
tlemen, ach !  Mrs.  Chamieson,"  pursued  Fraulein  with 
an  air  of  worldly  wisdom,  "  you  know  what  dreadful 
beings  young  chentlemen  are!  To  them  she  is  just 
good  fun  to-night  " 

"  And  Lord  Enniscorthy?  " 

Once  again  Trottsky  wagged  her  head,  pinching 
her  lips  together  into  a  wide  line  expressive  of  the 
deepest  sagacity. 


314       DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

"  Ach,  no,  Mrs.  Chamieson — and  that  is  the  stu- 
pidness  and  the  sadness  and  the  mischief  of  it  all! 
The  more  she  talk  and  laugh  and  flirt,  and  make  her- 
self conspicuous,  the  more  he  turn  away  from  her. 
He  vill  not  look  at  her.  He  cannot  look.  I  watch 
him  from  my  little  corner.  I  know  what  is  passing 
in  his  heart.  That  is  a  noble  soul,  Mrs.  Chamieson, 
and  it  revolts  from  the  triviality  and  the  folly  of  its 
own  ideal.  He  has  not  danced  with  her  to-night — 
and  the  less  he  come,  the  more  she  go  on  silly !  But 
do  I  not  know  her,  too,  my  own  child?  Under  that 
paint  and  that  bad  laughter  I  know  her  heart  is 
breaking  .  .  .  breaking!  And  soon  he  will  go 
away,  disgusted.  And  then  all  will  be  vorbei — over 
for  ever !  "  Fraulein's  eyes  suddenly  grew  pink.  She 
sniffed,  "  Ach !  And  I,  who  would  have  died,  Mrs. 
Chamieson,  to  see  these  two  young  and  beautiful 
children  happy  united." 

Coralie  could  have  hugged  the  honest  creature  as 
she  stood,  her  ugliness  irradiated  by  pure  unselfish- 
ness, grimacing  in  the  effort  to  swallow  down  her 
tears.  She  echoed  too  fervently  the  renewed  vin- 
dictives  with  which  Fraulein  pursued :  "  And  it  is 
that  Weib,  the  poisonous  influence,  the  evil  counsel 
of  that — that  rotten  one !  " 

"  What  is  to  be  done  ?  "  said  the  American,  nib- 
bling her  finger.  The  very  shrewdness  of  her  own 
wits  made  her  realise  the  danger  of  interfering  again 
at  such  -a  critical  moment,  when  a  touch  might  pre- 
cipitate an  irretrievable  disaster. 


NEVERTHELESS  it  was  Coralle's  fate  to  interfere. 
Crossing  the  hall,  on  her  way  to  the  supper-room,  to 
seek  counsel  of  her  Ernest  (things  had  come  to  a 
pretty  pass  when  she  had  to  address  herself  for  in- 
spiration to  that  excellent  but  uninspired  quarter!), 
she  met  Enniscorthy,  his  light  coat  over  his  arm,  his 
hat  in  his  hand.  Her  heart  leaped  with  an  almost 
disproportionate  sense  of  dismay. 

"  Oh,  you're  not  going  away ! "  she  cried. 

All  at  once  the  rouged  face  that  had  exasperated 
her  became  piteous  to  her  memory.  The  laughter 
and  unnaturally  strident  voice  echoed  in  her  ears 
like  sobs  of  despair.  The  young  man  turned  a  set 
countenance  upon  her ;  and  at  sight  of  her  agitation 
grew  himself  perceptibly  pale. 

"  I  think  I  must  go,"  he  said  very  gently. 

"  No,"  said  Coralie,  with  decision.  She  put  out 
her  hand  and  took  his  coat  from  him.  "  Don't  go, 
Enniscorthy,  don't  go!  Oh,  can't  you  see " 

His  eyes  widened  upon  her  with  a  shade  of  haughty 
surprise : 

"But     .     .     .     Cousin  Coralie    .     .     ." 

She  grew  bold  through  her  own  temerity ;  and, 
flinging  the  coat  behind  her,  she  now  laid  hold  of  his 
hat.  "  Go  back  to  the  ballroom,"  she  urged ; 

315 


316       DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

"  you're  not  going  without  dancing  once  with  Norah 
— just  one  dance." 

He  looked  at  her  still  with  uncertainty;  coloured 
in  a  boyish  way,  swiftly,  hotly;  and  then,  of  a  sud- 
den, against  as  it  seemed  an  impulse  of  confidence, 
assumed  his  most  reserved  air. 

"  I'm  afraid  Norah  is  too  much  engaged  to  spare 
anything  to  a  mere  cousin  to-night,"  he  said  form- 
ally. "  Of  course  I  should  be  only  too  happy  to 
dance  with  her.  Allow  me,"  he  added  politely,  "  to 
place  these  things  on  one  side."  He  took  his  hat 
from  her  and  laid  it  neatly  on  his  coat.  "  Can  I  take 
you  in  to  have  some  supper  before  I  go  upstairs 
again  ?  " 

"  No,  thank  you.     Ernest  is  waiting  for  me." 

Coralie  spoke  as  formally  as  he  himself;  she  was 
dashed.  Her  hot  anxiety  to  help  had  changed  into 
doubt,  into  a  chill  depression.  Were  they  all  wrong? 
Did  Enniscorthy  care?  She  watched  the  slim  figure 
and  its  deliberate  retreat  to  the  dancing-room,  and 
shook  her  head,  even  as  Fraulein  had  done.  A  phrase 
of  the  shrewd  German's  returned  ominously  to  her 
mind,  one  that  had  been  delivered  during  their  first 
consultation  in  the  schoolroom :  "  The  Norah  he 
loved  he  can  find  no  longer." 

Love  may  persist  through  the  most  appalling  ca- 
tastrophes, but  it  may  die — and  how  suddenly ! — of 
a  little  disgust. 

Norah  was  seated  beside  Sir  Duncan,  when  she 
suddenly  became  aware  that  Enniscorthy  was  watch- 
ing her  intently.  He  was  leaning  against  the  frame- 


ONENIGHT  317 

work  of  the  doorless  entrance  to  the  orangery.  It 
was  during  an  interval  between  the  dances ;  and  most 
of  the  non-dancers  had  made  the  move  to  supper.  As, 
across  the  long  empty  space  between  them,  their 
eyes  met,  Norah  felt  the  inept  laugh  freeze  on  her 
lips,  and  knew  that  under  the  artificial  bloom  of  her 
cheeks  the  blood  was  ebbing  away.  Instantly  the 
whole  situation  became  intolerable  to  her.  Her  heart 
sickened  of  her  empty  triumph.  Only  one  thing  mat- 
tered, would  ever  matter  in  life. 

She  had  very  little  diplomacy,  poor  Norah,  and 
still  less  knowledge  of  the  world.  She  had  tried  to 
be  clever  this  evening  and  the  result  was  a  dismal 
fiasco.  Now,  without  another  to  advise  her,  she  knew 
of  no  better  way  of  obtaining  her  desire  than  to  go 
straight  for  it. 

Behind  her,  into  the  window  recess,  her  mother's 
little  writing-table  had  been  pushed  out  of  the  way. 
She  turned  from  her  amazed  partner,  cutting  him 
short  in  the  middle  of  some  playful  remark,  sprang 
up,  and  flinging  open  the  lid  of  the  bureau  began  a 
feverish  hunt  for  writing  materials.  The  first  thing 
that  came  to  hand  was  a  block  with  pencil  attached. 

"What  are  you  doing  now?"  cried  Sir  Duncan. 
"  Is  it  a  new  game?  I  say,  you  are  .  .  .  you 
know!" 

As  she  tore  from  the  block  the  sheet  upon  which 
she  had  scribbled  but  one  line  she  glanced  up,  with 
a  sudden  scowl,  folded  the  paper  into  a  cocked  hat, 
and  paused  a  second  as  if  in  deep  reflection.  Her 
glance  wandered  towards  the  orangery,  again. 


318        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

"  Look  here,"  she  said  briefly,  as  the  music  struck 
up  again,  "  just  waltz  me  round  to  the  other  side  of 
the  room,  will  you?  Do  you  hear?  " 

On  this  last  she  stamped  her  foot.  For  some  time 
afterwards  the  youth  was  wont  to  assume  an  air  of 
deep  sagacity  when  the  name  of  Lady  Gertrude  Es- 
dale's  daughter  was  mentioned  in  his  presence,  and 
to  remark  that  he  did  not  think  she  was  quite  right 
in  her  head.  "  Ton  honour,  he  didn't !  Of  course, 
her  aunt,  Lady  Challoner,  was  as  mad  as  a  hatter. 
Everyone  knew  that !  " 

Clutching  her  note,  Norah  was  whirled  to  the  de- 
sired spot,  and  even  as  she  was  about  to  stretch  for- 
ward a  shaking  hand  to  deliver  her  message,  Ennis- 
corthy  stepped  close  to  her: 

"  When  am  I  to  have  my  dance  ?  " 

While  she  flushed  and  stammered  at  the  sound  of 
his  quiet  voice,  the  paramount  idea  in  her  mind  was 
to  hide  her  purpose  of  a  moment  before  Surrep- 
titiously she  slipped  the  scrap  of  paper  into  the  moss 
of  the  palm-tub  behind  her,  drawing  a  deep  breath 
of  relief  as  she  did  so. 

"  May  I  have  the  next  ?  "  went  on  her  cousin  in 
the  same  level  tones. 

Except  that  it  was  an  affirmative  she  hardly  knew 
what  she  answered  him:  her  pulses  were  beating 
in  her  throat  so  chokingly  and  her  lips  were  so  dry. 
The  next  thing  she  was  aware  of  was  that  Sir 
Duncan  had  drawn  her  among  the  dancers  again.  He 
was  saying  something  to  her,  laughing  as  he  did  so ! 
What  an  idiot  the  creature  was !  How  had  she  en- 


ONENIGHT  319 

dured  him  all  the  evening?    Was  it  possible  that  only 
an  instant  before  she  would  have  laughed  with  him? 

Leaning  on  her  son-in-law's  arm,  the  Dowager  re- 
turned to  the  dancing-room  after  partaking  of  sup- 
per. She  had  made  an  excellent  repast,  her  appetite 
as  much  stimulated  by  the  unwonted  sense  of  eman- 
cipation as  by  the  excitement  of  the  evening.  She 
was  pleased  to  find  herself  the  centre  of  attentions ; 
and,  after  her  long  abstention  from  such  functions, 
every  detail  amused  and  interested  her.  But,  to  her 
son-in-law,  she  had  not  made  herself  agreeable,  and 
for  Gertrude  she  had  her  severest  glance.  Father 
and  mother  were  held  responsible  for  the  daughter's 
misbehaviour.  As  for  Emerald  Fanny,  Lady  Ennis- 
corthy  had  ceased  even  to  perceive  her  existence. 
The  ingratiating  widow  had  found  an  opportunity 
of  restoring  the  old  lady's  handkerchief  to  her  at 
supper;  the  attention  had  been  acknowledged  with 
an  eye  as  blank  as  if  Sir  Reginald's  whilom  charmer 
had  been  one  of  the  Windsor  waiters. 

Sir  Reginald  himself  was  glad  to  edge  away  from 
the  range  of  his  mother-in-law's  shrewd  gaze  and  bit- 
ing tongue.  He  strolled,  somewhat  disconsolately, 
towards  the  orangery,  secure  in  the  fact  that,  a  few 
minutes  before,  he  had  seen  Emerald  and  her  part- 
ner, after  lingering  under  the  palms,  wend  their 
steps  into  the  hall.  He  was  glad  of  a  chance  of 
solitude;  for  the  evening  which  had  begun  so  well 
was  irretrievably  spoilt  for  him.  He  had  indeed  a 
very  keen  sense  of  guilt  on  the  score  of  Norah;  for 


DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

he  was  clear-sighted  enough  to  recognise  the  influ- 
ence that  had  been  at  work ;  and  nothing  could  have 
more  fully  displayed  to  him  the  triviality  of  what 
he  had  once  found  so  fascinating  as  to  see  it  mirrored 
in  his  child.  His  wife's  gentleness,  the  absence  of 
even  a  reproach-glance  in  his  direction,  heightened 
his  remorse. 

He  was  uncomfortable,  too,  in  his  relations  with 
the  widow  herself ;  her  eyes  followed  him  with  an  ex- 
pression equivalent  to  a  moan.  What  a  look  it 
was  that  she  had  flung  on  him  just  now  as  she  stood 
against  the  orangery  archway.  He  had  turned  from 
it  quickly ;  it  had  seemed  to  his  guilty  conscience  to 
presage  some  signal,  some  equivocal  message.  In 
truth,  he  could  not  bring  himself  to  approach  her; 
dreaded,  with  a  distaste  approaching  to  nausea,  the 
bare  idea  of  a  tete-a-tete. 

As  he  now  idly  posted  himself  on  the  very  spot 
whence  this  illicit  shaft  from  Cupid's  bow  had  been 
vainly  shot  at  him,  a  corner  of  white  paper,  protrud- 
ing from  the  moss  of  the  palm-tub,  caught  his  eye. 
With  a  dire  foreboding  he  drew  it  out,  and  unfolding 
the  twisted  sheet,  read: 

"  I  cannot  bear  this  any  longer.  What  have  I  done 
that  you  will  not  even  look  at  me?  Meet  me  in  the 
library  after  the  second  extra.  I  must  speak  to 
you." 

It  was  scrawled  in  pencil,  almost  illegible ;  but  Sir 
Reginald  did  not  hesitate  to  recognise  the  handwrit- 


ONE     NIGHT  321 

ing — that  fashion  of  flourishing  and  underlining  was 
but  too  familiar  to  him.  His  uneasy  conscience 
helped  to  convince.  To  whom  but  himself  could  such 
an  appeal  be  addressed ;  and  who  but  Emerald  would 
have  chosen  such  a  mode  of  communication?  This 
was  the  meaning  of  the  look  he  had  avoided!  The 
blood  rushed  humming  to  his  temples,  and  receded, 
leaving  his  brow  chill  and  damp.  He  must,  of  course, 
obey  the  summons.  Behind  the  cooing,  supple,  ca- 
ressing Emerald  of  the  Indian  days  there  was,  as 
he  had  recently  discovered,  another:  an  Emerald  with 
Medusa  mask  and  vindictive  eye.  He  had  caught  a 
glimpse  of  her  upon  the  night  when  Gertrude  had 
presented  his  gift.  Of  what  might  she  not  be  capa- 
ble ?  The  more  the  husband  wished  to  withdraw  from 
his  equivocal  situation,  the  more  intense  was  his  de- 
sire to  avoid  any  approach  to  a  scandal. 

He  folded  the  unwelcome  missive  meticulously  back 
into  its  cocked-hat  shape,  and  was  about  to  slip  it 
into  his  breast  pocket,  when,  upon  a  sudden  impulse 
of  distaste,  he  thrust  it  from  him  into  its  former 
hiding  place.  Then  he  cast  a  glance  around,  fearful 
of  observation;  but  the  room  was  filled  with  eager 
couples  arranging  for  the  next  dance ;  and  he  moved 
away  to  wait,  in  a  deeper  melancholy  and  more  active 
discomfort  than  before,  for  the  fated  moment. 

It  was  not  long  in  coming. 

Over  the  piano  a  card  with  "  Second  Extra  "  made 
its  appearance  almost  immediately ;  and  Sir  Reginald, 
bracing  himself  for  his  unpleasant  task,  repaired  to 


DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

the  hall,  where  he  stood  a  moment  peering  round. 
Two  or  three  couples  were  sitting  out;  there  was  a 
constant  stream  in  and  out  of  the  supper-room.  His 
suspense  was  brief.  From  behind  a  bank  of  flowers 
and  palms  the  widow  rose  with  a  serpentine  move- 
ment of  grace  and  came,  rustling  and  clinking,  for- 
ward. Behind  her  followed  the  youth  who  wore 
Norah's  flowers  in  his  buttonhole. 

"  Sir  Reginald,"  she  cooed,  "  will  you  not  spare 
me  a  few  minutes  ?  I  feel — oh,  I  must  speak  to  you." 

It  was  the  very  phrase  of  the  letter. 

"  Let  us  go  into  the  library,"  said  he,  with  the 
grace  of  a  condemned  man. 

"  My  emeralds  have  been  so  much  admired,"  she 
murmured  as  she  clung  to  his  arm. 

But  someone  had  been  watching  Sir  Reginald  after 
all.  Jane,  dreading,  like  Cinderella,  the  approach  of 
the  hour  which  would  rob  her  of  her  finery,  had  con- 
ceived the  childish  plan  of  hiding  from  her  Challoner 
in  the  dim  recesses  of  the  orangery.  She  hoped  that, 
rather  than  miss  his  appointed  train,  he  might  leave 
her  in  possession  of  the  pearls.  Hardly  had  she  en- 
sconced herself,  however,  than  she  became  aware  of 
her  brother-in-law's  fine  presence  in  the  doorway ;  and 
peering  at  him  in  terror  of  discovery,  became  witness 
of  his  manoeuvres  with  the  three-cornered  note.  With 
a  thrill  that  was  not  altogether  unpleasurable  she 
crept  next  from  her  hiding  place,  and,  stretching  a 
skinny  arm  stealthily  forth,  still  keeping  her  person 
in  concealment,  possessed  herself  of  the  document. 

It  was,  as  she  had  foreseen,  a  billet-doux.     Jane 


ONE     NIGHT 

knew  very  well  the  meaning  of  a  billet-doux.  She 
never  had  received  one;  she  had  never  written  one, 
but  she  had  dreamed  of  both.  Her  pale  eyes  nearly 
started  from  their  sockets  as  she  deciphered  the  faint 
lines  by  the  light  of  a  Chinese  lantern.  How  des- 
perate it  read ;  how  wicked !  But,  again,  how  thrill- 
ing! She  remembered  the  conversation  in  the  bed- 
room, on  the  day  of  her  mother's  cold;  she  remem- 
bered the  wizard's  warning,  the  stony  emerald  dog- 
collar  at  lunch ;  and  then  a  sneaking  sense  of  sym- 
pathy with  the  romance  of  the  sinners  was  swept 
away  by  a  tide  of  love  and  sorrow  for  dear  Gertrude. 
Her  beloved  sister — she  should  not  have  her  life 
wrecked  if  Jane  could  help  it!  This  meeting  in  the 
library,  which  might  lead  to  an  instant  elopement, 
must  at  all  cost  be  prevented.  Visions  of  rope  lad- 
ders and  a  black  horse  with  a  pillion,  danced  before 
Lady  Challoner's  mental  vision.  What  was  her  own 
gratification,  the  sacrifice  of  the  pearls,  compared 
with  Gertrude's  happiness? 

She  rushed  into  the  ballroom,  blindly  dashing 
against  revolving  couples  and,  halting  at  last, 
clutched  her  sister  by  the  hand. 

"  Oh,  my  dear,  my  dear,  I  saw  him  reading  it ! 
but  it  is  not  too  late,  dear  Gertrude,  and  it's  a  wife's 
duty  to  forgive.  And  perhaps  nothing  very  dread- 
ful's happened  yet.  And,  of  course,  I  wouldn't  like 
Challoner — I  mean  Caractacus,  no,  Challoner,  of 
course — to  behave  so.  And  oh,  dear  Gertrude,  there 
isn't  any  time  to  be  lost !  Here ;  read,  read !  " 

Gertrude  took  the  crumpled  scrap  of  paper.    With 


her  single  thought  fixed  upon  Norah  and  the  even- 
ing's failure,  she  brought  less  than  her  usual  serenity 
to  her  matrimonial  affairs.  She  read,  and  coloured 
angrily. 

"  You  saw  Reginald  with  this  ?  " 

"  Oh,  dear  Gertrude,  it  was  in  the  palm-pot  over 
there;  and  he  picked  it  out  and  just  looked  all  round 
to  see  that  nobody  saw  him.  You  know,"  ran  on 
Jane's  babbling  tongue,  "  I'm  afraid  it's  their  post- 
office.  People  of  that  sort  do  have  kinds  of  secret 
post-offices — I  mean  lovers."  She  tried  to  bite  back 
the  awful  word,  but  it  had  already  escaped  her.  She 
looked  piteous  and  hugged  herself. 

"  Lovers  !  " — Lady  Gertrude  gave  a  note  of  scorn- 
ful laughter.  "  But  why  write  ?  " 

"  Oh,  lovers  like  writing,"  murmured  Jane ;  and 
thought  of  Caractacus  and  his  virile  spirit  communi- 
cations. 

Gertrude  twisted  the  note  in  her  hand,  glanced  at 
it  again,  shrugged  her  shoulders,  and  then  spoke  in 
a  more  natural  voice: 

"  Oh,  Jane,  what  a  dear  goose  you  are !  This 
does  not  read  as  if  Reginald  had  been  devoted,  does 
it?  " 

She  tore  the  paper  in  pieces,  and  turned  to  leave. 
But  her  sister  clutched  her  in  a  frenzy: 

"  Oh,  Gertrude,  don't,  don't  blind  yourself !  Dear 
Gertrude,  I  feel,  I  feel  this  is  a  crucial  moment  in 
your  life. — Look,"  cried  Jane,  shaking  the  arm  she 
held,  "  there  he  is !  He's  looking  for  her — there,  in 
the  hall.  It  is  their  dance,  the  signal — the  second 


ONE     NIGHT 

extra,  you  know.  Don't  you  see?  Oh,  he's  found 
her ;  they're  going  off  together.  Gertrude !  "  Her 
voice  rose  to  a  shrill  crescendo. 

"  Oh,  Jane,"  said  the  other  wearily,  "  don't  make 
a  scene." 

"  If  you  don't  go  after  them,"  said  Jane,  with  the 
air  of  a  dilapidated  sibyl,  "  you  will  for  ever  regret 
it.  It  is  all  your  fault ;  you  should  not  have  brought 
them  together." 

Agitation  was  gaining  upon  her  again. 

"  Be  quiet,  then,  and  I'll  go,"  cried  the  goaded 
wife  at  last. 

She  hesitated  a  second.  It  was  impossible  to  cross 
the  dancing-room ;  and  -to  get  round  by  the  wall  was 
to  court  the  notice  of  Lady  Enniscorthy,  a  con- 
tingency to  be  avoided  in  Jane's  present  state  of  ex- 
citement. 

"  I'll  go  through  the  garden,"  she  whispered 
quickly,  and  stepped  out  on  the  terrace  by  the  open 
window  behind  them. 

Had  she  waited  a  moment  longer  she  might  have 
seen  Norah  join  the  dancers,  Enniscorthy's  arm 
round  her  waist. — There  was  a  look,  now,  on  the 
child's  face  that  somehow  made  the  paint  upon  it 
seem  merely  an  accident.  As  in  silence  they  were 
waltzing  her  eyes  were  cast  down,  and  there  was  a 
tremulous  tenderness  on  the  lips  that  had  laughed 
so  boldly.  There  was  April  again  in  her  air. 

But  the  mother  missed  the  sight  that  would  have 
brought  such  comfort  to  her  heart,  and  she  went 
out  into  the  still  and  balmy  garden  with  a  deeper 


DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

sense  of  distress  and  doubt  than  she  had  perhaps  ever 
known.  She  had  had  such  confidence  in  her  own 
diplomacy.  With  what  certainty  she  had  announced 
that  she  would  win  her  husband  back !  Now  her  own 
conduct  appeared  to  her  a  hideous  folly,  and  she  told 
herself  that  she  had  wrecked  the  happiness  of  her 
child — the  one  being  she  supremely  loved  on  earth. 
Her  little  Norah,  who  had  been  fresher  and  purer 
than  any  white  flower  in  the  garden  about  her,  should 
never  have  been  brought  into  contact  with  such  a 
creature  as  Mrs.  Lancelot.  Perhaps  it  was  true  of 
souls  as  of  material  things,  that  the  more  immacu- 
late they  were,  the  quicker  to  show  the  least  smirch. 
And  she,  it  was  she,  the  mother,  who  had  wrought 
the  harm ! 

The  more  bitterly  she  reviled  herself,  the  more  bit- 
terly she  thought  of  her  husband.  Lovers ! — Even 
poor,  guileless  Jane  dubbed  them  lovers.  It  was 
the  woman  whom  she,  the  wife,  had  invited  under 
his  roof.  It  was  intolerable,  hideous,  disgusting! 

In  such  moments  the  mental  outlook  becomes  dis- 
torted towards  the  past  as  towards  the  future:  all 
at  once  the  divers  episodes  of  recent  days  assumed  a 
different  complexion,  as  she  recalled  them  one  by 
one.  The  collar,  and  Reginald's  discomfiture,  the 
meekness  with  which  he  had  accepted  her  mastery  of 
the  situation  and  her  diplomatic  manipulations.  .  . 
Everything  pointed  to  the  same  thing.  How  blind 
she  had  been  not  to  realise  that  no  man  in  his  senses 
would  make  such  a  gift  except  to  a  mistress? 


ONENIGHT  327 

The  passionate  appeal  of  the  pencil  scrawl  no 
longer  seemed  to  point  to  that  satiety  to  which 
Coralie  had  jocularly  alluded  a  few  days  ago.  On 
the  contrary,  his  avoidance  of  his  guest,  his  discom- 
fort and  misery,  all  demonstrated  guilt.  He  was 
too  great  a  gentleman  to  endure  the  intolerable  situ- 
ation forced  upon  him  by  herself;  that  was  evident. 
And  there  could  be  but  one  reason  why  the  situation 
should  be  intolerable. 

In  her  heart-sickness  the  wife  told  herself  that, 
were  this  meeting  in  the  library  to  end  in  the  disaster 
foretold  by  Jane,  she  would  scarcely  care;  but  one 
thing  had  become  clear  to  her — she  must  know.  She 
would  surprise  them.  She  had  tried  to  unravel  a 
tangled  knot;  the  only  remedy  might,  after  all,  be 
to  cut  it. 

In  her  sisterly  anxiety,  Jane  had  forgotten  her 
own  troubles,  but  the  poor  Cinderella  was  not  des- 
tined to  escape  her  fate.  As  if  he  had  sprung  up 
out  of  the  ground,  she  suddenly  beheld  Lord  Chal- 
loner  before  her. 

"  Ha,  my  lady,  I've  caught  you !  Trying  to 
escape  me,  were  you?  Hiding  behind  the  curtains, 
eh  ?  Never  trust  a  woman !  Eh,  Jane  ?  Eh,  Jane  ? 
Come  now,  there's  a  young  fool  going  to  drive  me 
back  in  his  motor.  Glad  I  didn't  get  a  return  ticket. 
Come  now,  my  lady,  give  me  back  my  pearls ! " 

Jane's  protruding,  plaintive  eyes  implored  for  a 
second,  desperately.  Then  an  unknown  fire  awoke 
within  her. 


328        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

"  I'll  go  to  bed,  then,"  she  cried.  "  I  will.  You 
can  come  to  my  bedroom  if  you  like,  and  take  them !  " 
Her  voice  shook.  For  the  first  time  and  last  time  in 
her  existence  she  revolted.  "  I  think  you're  very 
mean,  Challoner,"  she  said. 

No  fear  that  she  should  call  him  Caractacus :  that 
noble  being,  in  his  cloak  of  skins,  would  have  scorned 
to  treat  her  so. 

"  Hullo !   Hullo !  "  cried  Lord  Challoner. 

He  was  too  amazed  to  be  angry.  Indeed,  there 
was  an  unwonted  respect  in  the  glance  he  flung 
upon  her;  if  poor  Jane  could  have  kept  it  up  she 
might  have  won  her  first  battle  and  with  glory.  But 
poor  Jane  could  not.  Already  she  was  shrinking 
and  cringing;  and  Lord  Challoner  carried  the  pearls 
back  to  London,  tied  up  in  the  same  paper  and  with 
the  same  string  as  that  in  which  he  had  brought  them 
down. 


VI 

GERTRUDE  ESDALE  intended  to  walk  from  the  gar- 
den into  the  library  straight  upon  the  couple,  with- 
out disguising  her  purpose  of  surprising  them.  She 
told  herself  that  a  single  glance  would  be  sufficient 
at  this  juncture.  Let  her  but  meet  Reginald's  eyes 
once,  and  she  would  know  all  there  was  to  know. 
But  there  are  times  when  mere  circumstances  seem 
to  guide  even  the  most  determined;  when  the  most 
honourable  will  become  victim  to  an  equivocal  posi- 
tion rashly  entered  upon. 

Even  as  Lady  Gertrude  crossed  the  threshold  of 
the  open  French  window  into  the  room  of  the  ren- 
dezvous, she  paused  and  stood  listening — an  eaves- 
dropper upon  her  husband  and  her  guest!  It  was 
incredible,  yet  it  seemed  as  if  she  could  not  have 
done  otherwise. 

Emerald's  voice,  with  its  clear,  deliberate  enunci- 
ation, was  ringing  out  plaintively,  and  it  was  the 
sound  of  her  own  name  which  brought  Lady  Gertrude 
to  an  involuntary  and  abrupt  standstill. — The  crea- 
ture was  talking  of  her,  and  to  her  own  husband ! 

"  I  felt,  from  the  first,  that  Lady  Gertrude  never 
wished  to  have  me  here."  This  was  the  phrase,  fol- 
lowed by  the  same  accents  of  mellifluous  lament. 
"  Oh,  I  know,  I  know ;  you  meant  for  the  best,  dear 
friend,  dear  friend,  in  making  your  wife  invite  me. 

329 


330       DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

But  it  was  a  mistake.  Oh,  you  have  felt  it  was  a 
mistake  as  much  as  I  have !  How  often  I  have  been 
on  the  point  of  packing  my  trunks  and  running  away, 
but  for  the  thought  of  you !  " 

Here  there  was  an  inarticulate  disclaimer  from 
Sir  Reginald,  the  sense  of  which  was  lost  to  Lady 
Gertrude.  Her  heart  was  beating  tumultuously ; 
alternate  waves  of  heat  and  chill  passed  over  her. 
After  all,  she  had  never  really  doubted ;  even  in  this 
recent  moment  of  bitterness.  It  had  been  no  more 
than  surface  pessimism,  to  which  the  most  even-tem- 
pered may  succumb,  and  which  is  as  different  from 
the  actuality  as  a  picture  is  from  life. 

She  would  have  been  more  or  less  than  human 
had  she  not  now  taken  the  opportunity  that  Fate 
offered,  to  assure  herself  of  the  extent  of  her  own 
misfortune;  but  the  tone,  almost  more  than  the 
words  of  her  rival,  filled  her  with  a  sickening  dread 
of  what  she  was  about  to  learn.. 

"  Yes,  yes,  it  has  been  an  impossible  situation," 
Emerald  was  pursuing ;  "  and  fire  and  ice  would 
sooner  amalgamate  than  your  wife  and  I.  The 
strain  has  been  intolerable — forgive  me  if  I  have 
seemed  to  fail  you ;  I,  your  little  friend,  mon  preux" 

Gertrude  bit  her  lip  to  keep  the  honest  indigna- 
tion from  breaking  forth  in  a  cry.  She  must  hear 
him  speak,  must  hear  his  guilt  in  his  own  words, 
before  she  could  break  in  upon  them.  When  Sir 
Reginald  did  speak  at  last,  it  was  in  very  embar- 
rassed and  inconclusive  sentences: 

"Really,  you  know — really,  I'm  very  sorry,  but 


ONENIGHT  331 

I'm  afraid  I  don't  quite  know  what  you  mean — 
really,  Mrs.  Lancelot " 

It  was  almost  as  if  he  had  known  there  was  a 
listener.  The  other  responded  quickly;  this  time 
with  passion,  wounded  and  indignant: 

"  You  do  not  know !  Oh,  Sir  Reginald,  how  have 
I  deserved  this  tone  from  you?  What  has  come  be- 
tween us  ?  Since  when  am  I  '  Mrs.  Lancelot '  to 
you?  What  have  I  done?  Oh,  I  cannot  bear  it! 
I  felt  I  must  speak  to  you  to-night ;  must  break  down 
this  horrible  barrier.  I  told  myself  that  a  word 
would  be  enough  between  you  and  me — and  now 
if  you  fail  me,  where  am  I  to  turn?  Oh, 
Reginald,  after  all  we  have  been  through  together; 
all  the  sadness,  the  suffering  .  .  .  and  the  joy, 
let  us  at  least  be  truthful  to  each  other." 

Then  Sir  Reginald  spoke  indeed.  The  words  fell 
from  his  lips,  at  first  with  a  painful  effort,  but  he 
went  on  manfully  in  spite  of  his  own  embarrassment, 
and  gradually  gained  even  more  in  dignity  and  assur- 
ance. 

"  Look  here,  my  dear,  perhaps  you're  right ;  it  is 
better  that  we  should  be  truthful — that  I,  at  least, 
should  be  truthful  to  you.  I'm  afraid  that  in  the 
separation  from  my  wife,  I  have  drifted  into  foolish 
ways  with  pretty  women — it's  been  a  little  bit  my 
way  all  my  life,  I'm  afraid.  But  when  Gertrude  and 
I  are  together,  well — somehow,  it  doesn't  seem  of  any 
consequence,  for  she  knows  how  little  it  all  means 
in  reality." 

Gertrude  could  hear  Emerald's  breath  drawn  hiss- 


DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

ingly  within.  The  fierce  beating  of  her  own  pulses 
subsided.  An  extraordinary  sense  of  peace  and 
soothing  came  over  her.  Her  husband's  voice  con- 
tinued : 

"  When  I  was  ill,  you  were  good  to  me,  very  good 
to  me;  and  I  was,  and  I  am,  very  grateful  to  you; 
and  we  had  a  very  pleasant  friendship.  But,  my 
dear  little  madame  " — it  was  the  last  time  that  he 
was  to  use  that  affectionate  appellation — "  when  you 
came  here,  under  this  roof,  in  response  to  my  wife's 
invitation,  somehow  it  has  been  borne  in  on  me,  with 
increasing  conviction,  that  a  man  in  loyalty  to  his 
wife  can  only  have  one  woman  friend — herself. 
That  is,  if  a  man  loves  his  wife  as  I  do  mine." 

Sir  Reginald's  accents,  which  had  waxed  severe 
to  harshness,  from  the  very  effort  this  declaration 
imposed  upon  him,  ended  by  being  unexpectedly 
broken.  From  her  post  as  eavesdropper  in  the  dark, 
Gertrude  had  a  sudden  vision  of  his  countenance, 
stamped  with  emotion.  Her  heart  melted  to  him — 
suddenly,  maternally.  Poor  Reginald,  with  his  lit- 
tle affectations,  his  poses,  his  easy  vanity,  his  bad 
French  and  his  flirtations !  After  all,  it  was  the 
nature  of  a  child ;  after  all,  it  was  honest  to  the 
core.  With  the  best  will,  and  every  opportunity, 
he  was  not  made  for  intrigue. 

And  while  she  rejoiced  and  was  moved  over  him 
tenderly,  something  within  her  cringed  and  winced 
for  this  other  woman's  humiliation.  She  wished  now 
she  had  gone  in  boldly  upon  them  at  the  beginning 
and  saved  her  from  it.  In  the  pause  that  came  she 


ONE    NIGHT 

felt  herself  grow  ever  more  crimson  and  discomfited. 
That  waltz-tune  swinging  in  the  distance,  she 
thought,  how  sickeningly  it  must  beat  on  those 
shamed  ears  .  .  .  when,  dropping  into  the  silence, 
like  a  shower  of  pebbles  into  a  dark  pool,  came  the 
divided  ripple  of  Emerald  Fanny's  laughter. 

Little  madame  laughed!  If  her  mirth  sprang 
from  a  seething  depth  of  rage,  and  rang  acidly  un- 
der its  sweetness,  there  was,  nevertheless,  some  gen- 
uine amusement  in  it.  She  had  made  a  final  attempt 
to  recover  lost  ground,  but  she  was  too  skilful  a 
strategist  not  to  have  left  herself  a  line  of  retreat. 
Had  Sir  Reginald  been  less  absorbed  in  his  own  side 
of  the  question,  he  might  have  wondered  why,  ever 
and  anon  during  this  momentous  conversation,  his 
companion's  little  white  hand  should  have  wandered 
to  the  bodice  of  her  dress,  as  if  feeling  for  something 
concealed.  Now,  as  she  laughed,  she  pressed  her 
fingers  among  the  laces,  and  an  answering  crackle  of 
paper  stimulated  her  to  a  fresh  peal. 

"  Oh,  my  dear  Sir  Reginald,  please  forgive  me ;  I 
really  cannot  help  it,  it  is  too  droll !  Oh,  I  wonder, 
I  do  wonder  what  you  mean?  Surely,  ha,  ha,  ha, 
what  an  absurd  misunderstanding!  Oh,  I'm  sure 
you  really  cannot  realise  the  impression  you  are 
giving  me!" 

Here  she  broke  off,  and  suddenly  grew  grave. 

"  Is  it  possible,"  she  exclaimed  in  a  tone  admirably 
blended  of  surprise  and  sorrow,  "  that  you — you 
mingled  some  unworthy  thought  to  the  friendship 


DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

I  deemed  so  pure;  the  friendship  upon  which  I 
relied  as  upon  a  brother's,"  her  voice  deepened  and 
thrilled ;  "  you  whom  I  called  mon  preux;  you  whom 
I  had  thought  sent  to  me  by  him " 

Sir  Reginald  could  have  covered  his  ears  to  shut 
out  the  words  he  knew  were  coming :  "  Sent  to  me  in 
my  desolation  1 "  .  .  .  How  they  nauseated 
him! 

The  tables  were  turned  upon  him  with  a  vengeance. 
His  lips  parted  to  speak,  but  closed  upon  an  inar- 
ticulate sound.  How,  indeed,  defend  himself  or  ex- 
plain, against  the  odious  subtlety  of  this  attack? 
At  this  very  righteous  moment  of  his  existence,  he 
stood  convicted  of  the  most  unpardonable  absurdity 
a  man  can  commit!  He  was  the  unnecessary  Jo- 
seph! Who  would  not  rather  be  a  Don  Juan  of 
utterly  remorseless  type? 

"  And  did  she,  your  wife,  think  this  horrible  thing, 
too  ?  "  pursued  the  widow,  shrill  in  her  advantage. 
"  Oh,  this  explains  all,  all  that  has  made  me  suffer  so 
much,  all  that  has  puzzled  me  in  this  house  to  which 
I  fame  so  gratefully,  so  confidingly !  Oh,  Sir  Regi- 
nald!" 

The  dove-moan  almost  provoked  the  eavesdropper 
to  step  forward  at  last,  only  upon  the  second  thought 
she  refrained;  she  could  not  expose  her  husband  to 
further  humiliation. 

She  dared  not  move  away,  lest,  at  this  juncture, 
she  be  discovered;  perhaps  she  had  no  very  keen  de- 
sire to  do  so  before  the  natural  end  of  the  scene — • 
the  scene  that  had  threatened  such  tragedy  for  her 


ONENIGHT  335 

and  was  being  wound  up  in  comedy.  Poor  Reginald 
— it  was  scarcely  agreeable  to  him  perhaps,  yet 
comedy  it  undoubtedly  was ! 

"  Oh,"  pursued  the  enchantress,  and  regret  was 
now  the  dominant  key,  "  how  I  wish  I  had  not  spoken 
to  you  to-night;  how  I  wish  I  had  been  able  to 
leave  this  place  with  all  my  illusions.  He  used  to 
say  to  me — how  often — that  I  was  too  trusting,  too 
innocent!  Oh,  do  you  remember,  only  a  few  days 
ago  in  the  woods,  how  I  called  myself  your  little 

sister?  And  all  the  time  you "  She  shuddered 

artistically  and  effectively.  Lady  Gertrude  could 
hear  the  shudder  in  her  voice.  Sir  Reginald  laid 
his  handkerchief  to  his  brow. 

Afterwards  he  wondered  what  beneficent  genie  had 
kept  the  little  fiend — such  had  his  petite  madame 
actually  become  in  his  eyes ! — from  recalling  in  fur- 
ther detail  all  that  had  taken  place  ...  a  few 
days  ago  in  the  woods. 

He  tried  to  put  an  end  to  the  situation.  He 
rather  thought  he  would  have  to  go  back  to  the  ball- 
room. It  was  an  inept  and  awkward  attempt,  a 
miserable  evasion,  almost  a  confession  of  guilt;  and 
so  he  felt  the  instant  he  had  spoken.  He  was  alto- 
gether delivered  into  her  hands ;  those  delicate  little 
hands,  be-ringed  by  him,  now  turned  into  harpy 
claws  to  torment  him,  to  rend  him  in  his  most  inti- 
mate susceptibilities. 

"  No,  Sir  Reginald,"  said  the  widow  with  dignity, 
"  you  owe  it  to  me,  I  owe  it  to  myself,  that  you 
should  understand  why  I  begged  for  this  interview — 


336       DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

else,  who  knows,"  an  acid  titter  ran  through  her 
words  again,  "  you  might  always  imagine  that  I 
approved  of — that  I  shared,  perhaps,  your  unfor- 
tunate " — she  laughed  once  more — "  your  ideas  of 
friendship ! " 

So,  after  all,  it  seemed  as  if  Sir  Reginald  was  no 
longer  the  unnecessary  Joseph,  but  the  base  Don 
Juan.  He  hardly  found  the  metamorphosis  more 
consoling,  as  he  reseated  himself  in  gloomy  silence. 
Emerald  drew  the  letter  she  had  been  hiding  from 
her  breast. 

"  I  had  wanted  to  consult  you  about  this,"  she 
said. 

"That?"  said  Sir  Reginald  stupidly,  staring  at 
the  big  white  envelope  with  its  sprawling  crest. 

"  Yes,  this,"  repeated  the  other.  "  I  think  you 
had  better  read  it." 

"I?"  said  he,  amazed. 

"  Yes,  I  insist." 

"  But,  really,"  cried  the  poor  man,  feeling,  in- 
wardly exasperated  almost  to  tears,  that  a  worm 
will  turn — "  I'd  much  rather  not,  Mrs.  Lancelot. 
I  can't  see,"  he  was  about  to  add,  "  that  it  is  any 
business  of  mine,"  when,  with  her  viper-like  quickness 
and  acumen,  she  forestalled  the  utterance: 

"  However  painful  it  may  be  to  you,  you  must 
read  it,  Sir  Reginald.  I  demand  that  you  should 
see  the  proof  that,  on  my  side,  there  was  innocence, 
complete  and  unsuspecting  innocence  in  our  friend- 
ship." She  tendered  the  letter  towards  an  unrespon- 
sive hand.  Then,  on  a  new  thought :  "  So  be  it ;  I  will 


ONE     NIGHT 

read  it  to  you,"  she  exclaimed  majestically,  "  since 
you  will  persist  in  this  cruel  and  distressing  atti- 
tude." 

And  the  General,  unable  to  defend  himself  from  the 
charge  of  headlong,  illicit  passion,  without  once 
more  becoming  entrenched  within  the  absurd  ram- 
parts of  masculine  virtue,  was  obliged  to  lend  an 
unwilling  ear. 

"  *  Beaconsfield  Lodge, 

"  '  Paisley,  19th  June. 
"  *  MY  DEAR  EMILY,'  " 

read  the  lady,  then  she  paused.  "  My  cousin,  Mr. 
MacCracken,  has  an  old-fashioned  liking  for  simple 
names,"  she  remarked  in  a  dignified  parenthesis ;  "  he 
prefers  Emily  to  Emerald."  (She  spoke  as  if  it 
were  a  mere  matter  of  taste,  and  did  not  add  that 
her  godfathers  and  godmothers  had  had  a  similar 
preference.)  "  l  My  dear  Emily,'  "  she  repeated, 
and  her  musical  voice  took  a  sentimental  inflection 
over  the  prosaic  name  that  gave  it  all  the  emotion 
of  an  endearment: 

"  *  Yours  to  hand  of  the  15th.  Glad  to  hear  of 
your  safe  arrival  in  England. 

"  '  I  note  your  address  in  London  and  also  that  you 
say  you  will  be  pleased  to  see  me.  I  take  it  that 
you  do  not  suggest  this  journey  south  for  me  with- 
out the  assumption  that  we  shall  do  business  at  the 
end  of  it.  Dear  Emily,  I  have  not  changed  in  my 
feelings  towards  you,  and  I  need  not  repeat  them 


338        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

here ;  but  if  I  understand  your  letter  aright,  there  is 
a  considerable  alteration  in  your  sentiments  towards 
me.  If  this  be  the  case,  I  think  I  can  promise  that 
you  will  not  regret  it. — Your  affectionate  cousin, 

"  *  JOHN  MACCRACKEN.'  " 

The  widow  read  this  remarkable  document  with 
inflections  of  voice  that  would  have  become  Romeo's 
declaration  to  Juliet  in  her  balcony. 

"  My  Cousin  John,"  she  explained  airily ;  "  a  mil- 
lionaire— one  of  our  merchant  princes " 

(The  flaming  letters  of  a  flaming  poster :  "  Mac- 
Cracken's  Oaten  Cracknells,"  danced  through  Sir 
Reginald's  dizzy  brain.  He  was  beyond  laughter. 
But  behind  the  screen,  Gertrude  was  shaken  with 
irrepressible  mirth.) 

The  glib  tones  were  running  on :  "  Passionately, 
passionately  attached  to  me.  Poor  John,  I  nearly 
broke  his  heart  once !  " 

"  But  now  you  will  mend  it,"  said  the  General, 
rude  for  perhaps  the  first  time  in  his  life,  and  rose 
with  an  abruptness  of  movement  that  amounted  to 
roughness. 

It  was  Emerald's  opportunity  for  an  exit  in  char- 
acter. She  rose  also,  in  well  simulated  terror: 

"  Sir  Reginald  .  .  .  this  violence !  Oh,  how 
terrible  this  all  is!  I  will  leave  to-morrow.  No, 
no,  do  not  speak.  Do  not  come  after  me !  Indeed, 
this  must  be  the  end!" 

She  fluttered  forth.  There  was  a  crackle  of  paper 
as  she  pressed  Mr.  John  MacCracken's  business  letter 


ONENIGHT  339 

to  her  lips ;  a  floating  murmur  of  "  John — pro- 
tector ! "  and  "  little  madame "  passed  out  of  the 
room,  and,  as  she  had  announced,  out  of  Sir  Regi- 
nald's life.  Her  emeralds  flashed  as  the  lights  in  the 
hall  struck  on  them. 

The  whilom  preux  might  have  had  a  smile  for  the 
fluid  adaptability  of  the  lady;  for  her  charming 
neglect  of  mere  facts ;  for  the  subtlety  and  cynicism 
of  the  creature  who  could  carry  away  her  booty  on 
a  tide  of  virtuous  indignation.  But  once  again  it 
was  the  eavesdropping  wife  who  grasped  the  humour 
of  the  situation.  Laughing  outright  now,  she  came 
to  him  where  he  stood,  like  one  stunned. 

"  Oh,  my  poor  old  man ! "  she  cried,  as  he  turned 
his  dazed  countenance — he  was  also  past  surprise — 
upon  her.  "  We  are  neither  of  us  a  match  for  her. 
She  could  buy  and  sell  us  both." 

"  Egad,  and  she's  sold  me ! "  exclaimed  the  Gen- 
eral in  an  exasperated  outburst.  And  then :  "  Ger- 
trude ! "  he  cried  eagerly,  and  caught  her  by  both 
hands.  She  saw  that  the  remorseful,  odious,  futile 
explanation  was  about  to  break  from  him;  and, 
lifting  her  hand,  laid  it  gently  across  his  lips. 

"  No,  my  dear,  no,"  she  softly  cried.  "  I  under- 
stand!" 

Her  voice  was  tender,  and  the  words  fell  like  balm 
on  his  seething  discomfort.  .  .  .  Gertrude  un- 
derstood. He  pressed  her  hand  and  kissed  it. 

"  Hush ! "  said  Lady  Gertrude,  with  sudden  sharp- 
ness. She  drew  him  back  with  her  into  the  shadow 


340       DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

of  the  great  screen — her  excellent  eavesdropping 
corner — with  irresistible  urgency ! 

"  Hush,"  she  whispered  again.  She  held  his  hand 
as  she  stood  beside  him ;  and  palm  to  palm,  like  two 
children,  they  lurked  and  listened. 

A  moment  later  he  realised  what  was  happening. 
Norah — their  only  child — came  into  the  library,  and 
with  her,  young  Enniscorthy. 


VII 

NOBAH  had  preceded  her  companion  Into  the  room 
in  a  couple  of  schoolgirl  strides.  After  one  hasty 
glance  around,  she  now  flung  herself  into  the  chair 
on  the  other  side  of  the  screen  with  such  violence 
that  it  rocked  again;  then  she  broke  into  a  passion 
of  tears.  All  the  pent-up  trouble  of  the  last  week, 
the  culminating  misery  of  the  evening,  found  ex- 
pression at  last.  In  much  the  same  words  as  Emer- 
ald Fanny,  between  panting  breaths  and  unrestrained 
sobs,  she  declared  that  she  could  not  bear  it — she 
could  not  bear  it ! 

Sir  Reginald  felt  his  wife's  hand  grow  cold  in 
his  clasp.  Unconsciously  she  gripped  him.  All  at 
once  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  he  on  his  side  understood 
her  as  never  before — the  mother  in  her  that  had 
taken  precedence  of  the  wife.  And  all  at  once,  too, 
it  seemed  to  him  as  if  something  awoke  in  himself, 
hitherto  dormant — the  father — at  the  sound  of  the 
child's  voice  crying  in  sorrow. 

He  clutched  back  the  tender  hand  that  held  his 
own.  Father  and  mother,  they  stood,  feeling  to  the 
quick  the  agony  of  that  silence  which  was  receiving 
Norah's  plaint.  For  Enniscorthy  was  still  silent. 

But  at  last  he  spoke — a  single,  low-voiced,  trou- 
bled: 

"Norah!" 

341 


DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

The  mother's  heart  leaped  at  the  sound.  Her 
quick,  inner  double-intuition,  womanly  and  maternal, 
caught  the  note  of  a  deep  emotion  in  the  word. 
**  He  loves  her  ...  he  loves  her !  "  she  cried  to 
herself ;  and  then  stood  straining  her  ears,  shameless 
in  the  keenness  of  her  desire,  while  the  tears  welled 
over,  to  pour,  unnoticed,  down  her  cheeks. 

"Oh,  Enn,  Enn!"  wailed  the  girl,  "how  could 
you!" 

The  fierce  anger  had  gone  out  of  her  accents. 
She,  too,  it  seemed,  had  found  the  lover,  in  that  one, 
half -whispered  word. 

"  You've  broken  my  heart !  "  she  cried.  And  then 
came  a  long,  sobbing  sigh  of  utter  content ;  and 
without  seeing,  the  mother  knew  that  the  two  young 
things  had  found  each  other,  and  that  Norah  was  in 
the  arms  that  were  to  hold  her  for  life. 

And  here  Gertrude  told  herself  the  hour  became 
too  sacred  for  the  presence  even  of  those  whose  flesh 
and  blood  she  was.  She  strove  to  draw  her  husband 
noiselessly  towards  the  open  door;  but  he  resisted 
stonily;  in  part  from  masculine  determination  to 
hear  the  whole,  having  heard  so  much;  in  part  from 
the  very  practical  fear  of  interrupting  at  the  wrong 
moment  a  most  desirable  explanation. 

"  My  little  Norah,"  said  Enniscorthy's  tender, 
husky  voice,  on  the  other  side  of  the  screen,  "  I 
thought  I  had  lost  you !  " 

Upon  which  Norah  sobbed  again  luxuriously,  and 
again  there  was  silence. 

The  day  when  her  handsome  Reginald  had  made 


ONENIGHT  343 

his  dashing  declaration  to  her,  Lady  Gertrude's  heart 
had  not  beaten  with  anything  like  such  emotion. 
The  agony  of  joy  superlative,  which  can  come  but 
once  in  a  lifetime,  was  granted  now  to  this  woman, 
whose  hair  was  streaked  with  white ;  and  it  came  to 
her  with  an  added  poignancy  and  force,  because  it 
passed  first  through  the  soul  of  her  child. 

After  a  little  while,  Enniscorthy  put  Norah  out 
of  his  arms  (scented,  painted  Norah,  who  was,  after 
all,  his  own,  under  her  silly  disguise)  and  spoke, 
this  time  with  a  very  manly  assurance : 

"  Listen  to  me,  darling — yes  " — as  she  inter- 
rupted him  in  her  irrepressible,  unabashed  way  with 
a  reproachful,  "  Don't  you  love  me  ?  " — "  Yes,  I 
love  you,  I've  always  loved  you.  I  shall  never  love 
anyone  else." 

(He  was  barely  twenty- three,  and  she  not  yet 
eighteen.  They  were  adorable,  thought  Lady  Ger- 
trude, with  the  salt  tears  on  her  smiling  lips.) 

"  We  have  to  consider,"  that  firm  young  voice 
was  continuing,  "  what  is  to  be  done.  Your  mother 
will  never  consent  to  our  marriage — never !  " 

Gertrude  started;  and  in  the  darkness  she  felt 
her  husband's  amazed  eyes  upon  her.  Norah's  in- 
dignant outcry  covered  the  sound  of  their  involun- 
tary movement. 

"Mamma?" 

"  She  told  me  so,  with  her  own  lips.  She  objects 
to  cousins  marrying." 

"  And    that   was    why    you    kept    away ! — Oh,    I 


344)        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

guessed  it!  How  could  she?  How  unkind,  how 
horrible ! " 

"  She  said  people  were  already  talking  about  us." 
The  young  man's  tones  were  quietly  judicial  against 
the  fever  heat  of  his  companion's.  "  But  that  was 
not  when  I  thought  I  had  lost  you,  Norah.  I  kept 
away,  but  I  was  only  biding  my  time.  I  thought 
your  mother  had  some  right  on  her  side." 

"  Oh,  Enn !  " 

"  I  had  no  business  to  bind  you  before  you  had 
seen  anything  of  the  world." 

"  As  if  that  could  have  made  any  difference," 
cried  she,  in  superb  scorn. 

"  Ah,  but  it  did  make  a  difference !  Norah — the 
very  first  stranger  that  came  into  this  house  changed 
you  .  .  .  changed  you  completely." 

"Enn!" 

This  last  exclamation  was  delivered  in  a  smoth- 
ered voice.  Lady  Gertrude  had  a  pretty  shrewd  sus- 
picion that  her  daughter  had  dropped  her  face 
against  her  lover's  arm  to  hide  her  blushes,  her  con- 
fusion. The  blood  rose  painfully  in  her  own  cheek, 
as  the  young  man  went  on.  Had  she  but  known  how 
tenderly  the  lover  was  stroking  the  abashed  head 
while  he  rebuked! 

"  You  were  changed  already  the  very  first  night 
I  dined — after  that  woman  came.  No  longer  my 
Norah,  but  a  bad  copy  of  someone  who  was  cer- 
tainly not  worth  copying." 

The  girl  gave  a  meek  sob. 

"  Do  you  know,"  went  on  the  severe  young  judge, 


ONENIGHT  345 

"  that  for  an  instant,  when  I  saw  you  to-night,  I 
did  not  recognise  you !  " 

"Oh!"  she  gasped,  and  "Oh!"  again.  "Oh, 
Enn,  I  know  I  look  a  pig ! "  Impetuously  she 
sprang  to  her  feet.  "  Look  here,  I'll  wash  it  off. 
Plenty  of  water  in  this  vase ;  lend  me  your  handker- 
chief— my  little  rag's  no  good.  Now,  Enn,  now 
look  at  me,  is  it  gone?  Am  I  your  own  Norah 
again?  Oh,  say  I  am!  " 

He  had  still  too  much  of  the  child  in  him  not  to 
take  it  all  with  perfect  seriousness.  He  had  risen 
also ;  he  now  gathered  her  in  his  arms  and  kissed 
her  wet  face,  then  gravely  possessed  himself  of  the 
handkerchief,  and  finished  drying  the  pretty  counte- 
nance. 

"  Never  anything  but  my  Norah  again !  Yes,  you 
do  want  me.  I  see  you  are  too  easily  influenced, 
darling,  too  impressionable  for  me  to  trust  you  to 
other  keeping.  Your  mother  has  never  understood 
you,  she  has  no  proper  control  over  you.  But  I," 
said  the  boy,  "  I  know  how  to  keep  my  own ;  I  will 
guard  you,  my  treasure ! "  He  dropped  his  voice 
reverently.  "  You  shall  remain  unspotted  from  the 
world,  my  darling." 

The  mother  could  rise  above  the  pain  of  this  pro- 
nouncement, and  of  her  daughter's  acquiescence  in 
it,  to  be  glad  that  her  wilful  child  should  have  found 
so  strong  a  master;  and  to  smile  at  the  self-reliance 
of  the  twenty-three-year-old  lover.  But  his  next 
utterance  startled  her  considerably: 

"  And  so,"  he  was  saying,  "  there's  just  one  thing 


346       DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

for  me  to  do.  I  must  take  you  right  away,  and 
as  soon  as  possible  marry  you." 

The  girl  gave  a  cry,  surprised,  it  is  true,  but 
unmistakably  joyful: 

"  Run  away  with  me,  do  you  mean  ?     Enn !  " 

"  It's  not  the  way  I  should  have  wished  to  do  it. 
But  I  can't  trust  you  from  me.  I  cannot  trust  you 
in  a  house  where  you  have  to  be  friends  with  such 
people  as  that  Mrs.  Lancelot ! " 

That  was  bitter  hearing  to  both  parents.  Sir 
Reginald,  who  would  have  interfered  at  the  lover's 
cool  proposal  of  elopement,  but  for  his  wife's  re- 
straining hand,  wrenched  the  fingers  he  held  in  an 
unconscious  spasm.  But  humbly  Gertrude  took  her 
punishment.  It  was  true — she  had  failed  to  guard 
her  child.  It  was  true  she  had  little  or  no  influence 
over  her,  in  spite  of  perpetual  thought  and  tender- 
ness ;  and  here  was  her  wild  colt,  docile  to  curb  and 
spur,  without  even  a  toss  of  the  head  or  a  quiver  of 
defiance ! 

"  Oh,  yes,  Enn,  take  me  away  .  .  .  take  me 
away ! " 

With  a  kind  of  second-sight  the  mother  had  once 
more  a  vision  of  the  abandonment  with  which  the  girl 
flung  herself  upon  her  lover's  breast  in  this  surrender. 

She  felt  rightly  that  it  was  a  dangerous  nature — 
one  only  too  likely  to  come  to  shipwreck  among  the 
breakers  of  life,  unless  carefully  piloted.  But  her 
child  had  found  the  pilot ;  and,  as  she  honestly  recog- 
nised, found  him  for  herself  without  her  help — nay, 
even  in  spite  of  her  maternal  solicitude.  From  the 


"THERE'S    JUST    ONE   THING  TO    DO— I    MUST    TAKE    YOU 

RIGHT  AWAY  AND  AS  SOON  AS  POSSIBLE 

MARRY  YOU." 


ONENIGHT  347 

depths  of  her  heart  she  thanked  God  that  it  was  so. 
It  is  perhaps  maternity  alone  that  is  capable  of 
absolute  abnegation  in  love. 

Unconsciously  in  that  voiceless  prayer,  she  must 
have  sighed  aloud,  for  the  sound  scared  the  lovers; 
such  children  they  were,  after  all!  Enniscorthy 
started  with  a  boyish  ejaculation;  Norah  tittered 
and  whispered,  the  veriest  schoolgirl  still: 

"  Oh,  I  say,  let's  get  out  into  the  garden !  No, 
no,  by  the  hall!  I'm  sure  there's  someone  behind 
the  screen!  Oh,  I  say,  Enn — what  will  happen  if 
we've  been  overheard !  " 

He  was  lofty  once  more  in  his  answer  as  he  led 
her  forth,  a  protecting  arm  about  her  shoulder: 

"  Nothing  really  matters  now — now  that  all  is 
clear  between  us." 

"  Upon  my  word,"  said  Sir  Reginald,  "  that's  a 
pretty  thing  for  us  to  hear!  That's  a  pretty  cool 
pair — upon  my  word !  " 

His  tone  was  sarcastic ;  but  it  covered  much  hurt 
and  angry  feeling,  and  he  stepped  round  the  screen 
hastily,  as  if  he  would  still  arrest  the  young  offend- 
ers. But  his  wife  called  him  back  softly,  and,  turn- 
ing, he  saw  her  face  with  the  tears  running  down. 

"  Gertrude !  "  he  cried,  almost  alarmed. 

Never  before,  perhaps,  in  all  their  long  married 
life  had  he  seen  her  give  way  in  this  manner — the 
self-contained,  serene,  unemotional  woman.  For  a 
moment  she  could  not  speak  to  him ;  but  letting  her- 
self sink  into  the  chair,  where  a  moment  before  En- 


348        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

niscorthy  had  held  their  daughter  in  his  arms,  she 
stretched  out  her  hand  to  him  again.  He  fell  on  his 
knees  beside  her,  indignant,  deeply  compassionate, 
utterly  misunderstanding. 

"  Don't  cry,  my  darling !  Ungrateful  girl,  un- 
grateful little  cat  that  she  is,  I'll  bring  her  to 
reason ! " 

The  mother  gave  a  tender  laugh  amid  her  tears. 

"  Oh,  no,  Reginald !  My  dear  old  Reginald,  don't 
you  see  I'm  only  crying  because  I'm  so  happy?  Oh, 
don't  you  see  how  beautiful  it  is?  "  She  took  her 
hands  from  his  clasp  to  place  them  on  his  shoulders 
and  draw  him  towards  her.  "  Here  we  have  both 
been  fretting  and  fussing  about  ourselves — I  thought 
for  a  moment  you  cared  for  that  woman  better  than 
for  me.  Yes,  I  did,  indeed — forgive  me  for  that ! 
Even  if  you  had  been  so  silly  as  to  think  so  yourself 
for  a  moment,  I  ought  to  have  known  better.  As  if 
you  could !  And  all  the  while  we've  forgotten  how  the 
years  have  been  busy  with  us,  how  the  young  are 
stepping  forward  with  their  right  to  life  and  love — 
and  we're  only  just  father  and  mother  looking  on — 
looking,  oh,  my  dear  old  man,  thank  God,  on  our 
child's  happiness !  " 

Never  was  anyone  so  quick  to  catch  emotion  as 
Sir  Reginald.  There  were  answering  tears  in  his 
own  eyes  as  he  gazed  up  at  his  wife's  face,  so  beauti- 
fully transfigured  by  tenderness  and  joy.  The 
strains  of  the  band,  in  a  plaintive  Russian  waltz- 
tune,  came  wailing  across  the  hall.  A  rush  of  memo- 
ries overcame  him.  He  could  not  at  all  feel,  in  this 


ONENIGHT  349 

wholesale  way,  that  he  had  done  with  his  youth — 
the  ever-vernal  Sir  Reginald — but  he  did  feel,  more 
than  ever,  that  there  was  but  one  woman  in  the 
world  for  him. 

And,  looking  on  her  now,  he  told  himself  she  was 
only  more  beautiful  with  the  years.  And  there  was 
something  more  pressing  to  be  accomplished  than 
the  discipline  of  his  impertinent  child  and  the  setting 
back  in  his  place  of  the  still  more  impertinent  suitor 
— it  was  this  clasping  of  his  wife  to  his  heart,  this 
kissing  of  her  tear-stained  cheek,  her  trembling  lips, 
these  passionate  assurances  that  she  was  his  beloved, 
that  she  was  lovely  and  that  she  must  never  leave 
him  again,  for  he  was  lost  without  her. 

And,  a  little  while  afterwards,  when  he  put  her 
from  him,  to  look  in  her  face,  as  lovers  will,  he  saw 
that  she  was  blushing,  rose-red,  like  a  girl.  And 
then  he  told  her,  what  his  heart  had  told  him  a  little 
while  ago,  that  in  his  eyes  her  youth  had  remained 
undimmed ;  that  to  him  she  must  always  be  the  bride 
of  his  young  manhood. 


vin 

THE  Dowager  looked  very  crossly  at  her  daughter, 
as  Lady  Gertrude  re-entered  the  ballroom,  followed 
by  Sir  Reginald.  The  music  had  ceased;  and  save 
for  Coralie  yawning  shamelessly,  propped  up  against 
her  Ernest,  and  Fraulein  incredibly  wrinkled  with 
fatigue,  the  room  was  empty.  The  Dowager  was 
tired;  she  was  annoyed;  she  hated  unconventionality 
— odd  ways  as  she  called  them — she  hated  emotion. 
One  glance  at  the  delinquents'  faces  showed  that  they 
had  been  indulging  in  emotion :  "  making  some  ridicu- 
lous scene  to  each  other,  while  I  have  had  to  speed 
their  guests  and  invent  excuses  for  them.  ...  I 
who  ought  to  have  been  in  my  bed  long  ago !  Flor- 
ence would  have  seen  that  I  was  not  kept  from  my 
rest  in  this  manner !  " 

"  May  I  ask  where  you  have  been,  Gertrude?  "  she 
enquired,  with  drawn  eyebrows  and  awe-inspiring 
hook  of  nose. 

"  Dear  mamma  .  .  . !  "  said  the  remiss  daugh- 
ter absently — her  eye  wandered.  "  Has  anyone  seen 
Norah?" 

"  No,"  exploded  dear  mamma.  "  Norah  van- 
ished .  .  .  like  the  rest  of  you.  I  think  you're 
mad,  Gertrude.  And  you,  too,  Reginald,  to  disap- 
pear like  that,  both  of  you.  If  people  will  give  en- 

350 


ONENIGHT  351 

tertainments,  the  least  they  can  do  is  to  be  civil  to 
their  guests.  I'm  going  to  bed." 

Upon  the  point  of  hoisting  herself  painfully  out 
of  her  seat,  the  Dowager  paused,  her  eye  became 
fixed.  She  clutched  little  Fraulein  by  the  wrist. 

"  Look  there,"  she  said. 

Trottsky,  who  had  been  bidden  to  sit  beside  the 
angry  old  lady,  and  to  lend  meek  ear  to  her  com- 
plaints, was  the  only  person  of  the  Orange  Court 
party  who  had  remained  in  favour  to-night. 

"  Ach,  du  mem  lieber,"  ejaculated  Fraulein,  ad- 
justing her  spectacles  to  follow,  with  blinking  agita- 
tion, the  direction  of  Lady  Enniscorthy's  pointed 
finger.  "The  child!" 

"  Child,  indeed,  and  a  very  naughty  child  she  is ! 
She  deserves  a  good  whipping,  Fraulein,  and  upon 
my  soul  " — the  Dowager  gave  an  acid  laugh — "  she 
looks  as  if  she  had  been  getting  one !  " 

Norah,  s-linking  across  the  hall,  radiant,  dishev- 
elled, and  shamefaced,  was  instinctively  arrested  by 
her  grandmother's  hawk-like  glance. 

"  Come  in,  miss,"  said  the  old  lady,  beckoning 
fiercely,  "  come  in,  this  minute." 

Gertrude  turned  and  went  rapidly  towards  the 
hall. 

In  a  flurry,  which  contrasted  quaintly  with  his 
recent  determination  and  dignity,  Enniscorthy  was 
struggling  into  his  overcoat  upon  the  threshold  of 
the  porch.  It  was  quite  evident  that  the  last  thing 
the  young  clandestine  lovers  desired  was  to  be  seen 
by  their  elders. 


S52       DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

"  Oh,  my  dears,"  cried  Gertrude,  and  broke  into 
laughter,  tremulously  near  again  the  fountain  of 
her  tears.  "  Enniscorthy  .  .  .  my  little  girl ! " 
She  held  out  a  hand  to  each.  Norah,  an  incipient 
scowl  of  rebellion  on  her  face,  could  do  no  less  than 
take  it  on  her  side.  With  drooped  head  she  exam- 
ined her  mother  closely  from  under  her  lids. 

"  Enniscorthy,  you're  not  going  without  bidding 
me  good-night,"  said  Lady  Gertrude,  changing  her 
tone. 

The  young  man,  hotly  blushing,  turned  and  came 
towards  her. 

"  Oh,  good-night,  Cousin  Gertrude.  It  has  been 
such  a  pleasant  evening !  " 

Norah  smothered  a  laugh.  Lady  Gertrude  firmly 
retained  the  hand  that  had  been  ceremoniously  of- 
fered; once  more  she  was  mistress  of  the  situation. 

"  You  must  both  come  with  me  to  grandmother." 

The  Dowager  rose,  with  a  sense  of  important 
event,  as  the  trio  approached  her.  Fraulein  gur- 
gled an  "  ach ! "  poised  between  apprehension  and 
ecstatic  expectation. 

And  "  Oh,  ginger ! "  cried  Coralie,  straightening 
herself  from  her  lackadaisical  attitude,  and  pinch- 
ing her  long-suffering  Ernest's  arm,  after  her  wont 
in  moments  of  emotion.  The  General  snorted.  He 
by  no  means  approved  of  the  swift  forgiveness  which 
was  beaming  from  his  wife's  face.  The  memory  of 
the  lovers'  conversation  was  rankling  in  his  mind. 

"  Dear  mamma,"  said  Gertrude,  "  these  children 
have  something  to  tell  you,  I  think." 


ONENIGHT  353 

The  scowl  vanished  from  Norah's  countenance. 
In  an  instant  her  arms  were  round  her  mother's 
neck,  clasped  in  a  bear-like  hug;  and  her  voice  jubi- 
lated : 

"  She  doesn't  mind,  after  all,  Enn ;  she  doesn't 
mind.  We  needn't  run  away!  We  can  be  married, 
with  wedding-cake  and  bridesmaids,  and  a  trousseau, 
and  presents,  and,  and — Oh,  mammy  darling!" 
She  broke  off  abruptly,  bit  her  lip  and  looked  fright- 
ened. 

"  Upon  my  word ! "  said  the  grandmother,  even  as 
the  father  had  done. 

Her  piercing  eye  turned  from  Norah's  scarlet  vis- 
age to  the  young  man's  pale  and  serious  countenance. 
Then,  in  the  little  pause,  the  two,  who  had  just 
plighted  troth,  exchanged  a  long  glance.  And  it 
was  upon  this  that  occurred  the  most  unexpected 
thing  in  a  night  of  surprises ;  the  Dowager  shed 
tears — the  few,  difficult  tears  of  old  age. 

"  My  dear  children,"  she  said,  and  extended  her 
two  little  trembling  hands  in  blessing.  It  was  well 
she  was  so  sturdy  an  old  lady,  for  Norah  positively 
assaulted  her  with  another  of  her  ursine  hugs. 

"  After  all,  Enniscorthy,"  said  the  future  mother- 
in-law,  turning  her  happy  smile  upon  him,  "  you'll 
have  to  put  up  with  wedding-cake  and  presents  and 
general  family  approval."  She  broke  off.  She 
found  the  young  man's  gaze  upon  her,  surprise  and 
a  kind  of  reproach  in  his  candid  eyes.  Instantly 
she  realised  how  singular  her  volte-face  must  appear 
to  him  and  how  far  from  the  young  male  mind  was 


354       DIAMONDS    CUT    PASTE 

the  comprehension  of  feminine  subterfuge.  She 
laughed  a  little,  both  at  herself  and  him,  then  added 
in  an  undertone  through  which  ran  a  deep  note  of 
feeling :  "  My  dear  boy,  you  must  forgive  me ;  I  be- 
lieve that  I  have  misunderstood  both  you  and  my 
little  girl.  I  know  now  that  I  can  trust  her  to  you." 

He  squeezed  the  hand  she  held  out  to  him  again. 
She  drew  a  sigh  of  comfort.  More  explanation 
would  never  be  needed  between  them. 

"  Nobody  has  asked  my  leave,"  said  the  General. 

"  Reginald !  "  said  the  Dowager  in  a  warning  bass, 
cocking  her  eye  upon  him  over  her  granddaughter's 
enlacing  arms. 

"  It  was  papa  who  listened,"  cried  the  girl,  with  a 
sudden  vindictive  flash  of  intuition.  But,  with  a 
movement  as  gracious  as  it  was  tender,  Lady  Ger- 
trude slipped  her  arm  within  her  husband's. 

"  Papa  is  quite  right,"  she  said,  "  and  his  consent 
will  have  to  be  asked,  if  it  were  only  as  a  little  act 
of  reparation  for  proposing  to  do  without  it.  I 
don't  think  he'll  be  very  hard  on  you,"  she  added, 
and  this  gave  the  General  his  opportunity. 

"  I  am  not  likely  to  refuse  your  mother  anything, 
Norah,  so  you  had  better  ask  her  to  intercede  for 

you." 

The  look  which  accompanied  these  words  was  al- 
most as  ardent  as  that  with  which  the  young  lover 
had  melted  the  grandmother's  heart  a  few  moments 
before. 

So  the  General  kissed  his  daughter  and  shook 
hands  with  Enniscorthy,  who,  considering  that  he 


ONENIGHT  355 

was  intensely  hating  the  whole  scene,  with  the  shyness 
of  the  earnest  lover  added  to  constitutional  reserve, 
went  through  it  all  very  creditably,  even  if  his  mien 
hardly  reflected  Norah's  abandonment  of  joy. 

The  while  Fraulein  wept  audibly  into  her  best 
pocket-handkerchief,  and  Coralie  was  fain  to  em- 
brace her  Ernest  before  them  all,  as  still  better  than 
pinching. 

"  Oh,  I  must  tell  Aunt  Jane ! "  she  cried  suddenly, 
the  kindly  thought  ever  uppermost  in  her  mind. 

"  I  declare,"  said  the  Dowager,  "  I  should  not 
mind  another  glass  of  champagne. — No,  young  man, 

you  give  your  arm  to  Norah.  Reginald "  not 

since  his  return  had  his  relative  smiled  with  such 
amiability  upon  the  erring  son-in-law — "  will  you 
support  my  tottering  steps?  We  must  toast  our 
young  couple." 

"  Aunt  Jane,"  said  Coralie,  coming  softly  into 
the  bedroom  where  the  poor  Cinderella  had  taken 
refuge. 

The  light  was  still  burning.  Jane,  clad  in  her 
striped  flannelet  dressing-gown,  sat  before  the  writ- 
ing-table; the  tinsel  crown  wreath  was  still  on  her 
head,  inclining  more  rakishly  than  ever  towards  her 
left  ear.  She  held  a  pencil  in  her  hand  and  was 
poring  over  her  open  blotter.  So  absorbed  was  she 
that  it  was  not  until  her  niece  called  her  twice  that 
she  raised  her  flushed  countenance. 

"Oh,  my  dear,  my  dear,  I'm  glad  it's  only  you! 
I  couldn't  have  borne  anyone  else.  I've  just  had 


356       DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

such  an  interesting  communication  from  Caractacus, 
the  first  he's  ever  granted  me  alone.  He's  been  say- 
ing such  dreadful  things  about  Challoner.  I'm 
afraid  he's  rather  wicked.  Then  it  shows  his  feel- 
ings for  me,  doesn't  it  ?  " 

She  pointed  an  agitated  finger  to  the  violent 
scrawl  with  which  the  page  before  her  was  adorned. 

"  He  ought  to  be  hanged,  hanged,  hanged ! " 
she  read  dramatically — "  He  means  Challoner,  you 
know.  On  account  of  the  pearls,  my  dear;1  and 
really  I  do  think  it  was  mean.  Challoner,  I  mean. 
I  suppose  I  ought  to  be  angry  with  Caractacus. 
But  then  in  those  days,  my  love,  people  were  very 
frank,  weren't  they? — And,  oh,  I  asked  him  if  it  was 
going  to  be  all  right  about  Gertrude,  and  he  wrote, 
yes.  I've  been  so  anxious  about  dear  Gertrude,  I 
was  so  afraid  I  might  have  done  harm  instead  of 
good  by  interfering.  Caractacus  was  so  consoling. 
You  see  how  the  pencil  went  round  and  round ;  that 
always  means  they're  quite  certain!" 

"  Well,  ain't  that  nice,  now,"  said  the  little  Ameri- 
can heartily,  glancing  at  the  cocoon-like  hieroglyphic 
with  due  respect.  "  And  it's  real  sing'lar,  but  I've 
just  come  with  a  bit  of  good  news  for  you.  Ennis- 
corthy  and  Norah  are  engaged,  and  we're  all  as 
pleased  as  Punch." 

"  Oh,  my  dear,  my  dear ! "  said  Aunt  Jane,  in 
quite  another  tone.  She  stood  hugging  herself,  al- 
lowing the  importance  of  the  information  to  sink 
from  her  muddled  brain  into  her  excellent  heart. 
Then,  with  her  finger  at  the  end  of  her  nose,  looking 


ONENIGHT  357 

more  like  a  weak-minded  parrot  than  ever :  "  Regi- 
nald could  not  possibly  run  away  with  Mrs.  Lancelot 
if  his  daughter  is  going  to  be  married,  I  should 
think,"  she  hazarded  sagely. 

Coralie  gave  a  little  shriek. 

"  Run  away  with  Mrs.  Lancelot !  He's  much  more 
likely  to  run  away  from  her.  What's  put  that  into 
your  dear  old  noddle?  " 

Aunt  Jane  bent  forward  and  whispered: 

"  My  dear,  she's  packing !  She  is  indeed.  I  can 
hear  through  the  wall.  And,  what's  more,  my  dear, 
she's  going  away  first  thing  in  the  morning,  by  the 
early  train.  I  heard  her  tell  the  housemaid.  And 
she's  ordered  a  fly;  she  said  she  wouldn't  have  Ger- 
trude send  her  in  for  anything — it  gave  me  such  a 
turn ! " 

"  Aunt  J.,"  pronounced  Coralie,  "  you're  an  angel, 
a  darling,  and  a  goose.  The  only  turn  the  widow 
.will  ever  give  us  again  will  be  the  dance  Tout  a  Zoi 
Joie,  at  her  departure." 

She  caught  the  lean  figure  and  whirled  it  once  or 
twice  before  poor  Jane  was  able  to  realise  what  was 
happening.  Then  Mrs.  Jamieson  hugged  her  with 
a  fervour  that  Norah,  the  young  bear,  herself  had 
not  excelled. 

"  Oh,  my ! "  she  exclaimed  in  conclusion,  "  isn't  it 
all  just  balmy! " 

"  I  think,  my  dear,"  said  Jane,  when  the  not  un- 
pleasureable  giddiness  caused  by  these  frolics  had 
somewhat  subsided,  "  I  think,  my  dear,  I  must  hasten 
to  offer  my  good  wishes  to  the  dear  young  pair. 


358       DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

Norah  was  always  such  a  pet  of  mine,  and  Gertrude 
is  my  favourite  sister — (don't  tell  dear  Florence!) — 
What  did  you  say,  my  dear? — that  it  was  balmy? 
Dear  me,  balmy! — very  balmy  indeed!  Dear  Flor- 
ence doesn't  like  your  American  expressions.  I 
think  they're  very  sweet.  Balmy,"  repeated  Jane; 
and  absently  gathering  the  folds  of  her  gay  dressing- 
gown  as  if  they  had  been  her  recent  robes  of  silk, 
she  sidled  from  the  room. 

"  Challoner  called  me  balmy  once — he  said  I  was 
balmy  on  the  crumpet.  I  am  afraid  he  didn't  mean 
it  quite  nicely,  my  dear !  Gentlemen,"  said  the  poor 
lady  from  the  depths  of  her  experience,  "  have  some- 
times some  odd  little  ways,  you  know." 

"  Let  her  go,"  said  Coralie  to  herself,  as  she 
watched  the  odd  figure  ambling  down  the  corridor. 
"  If  they  don't  all  see  what  a  dear  she  is,  forgetting 
all  about  herself  and  her  dressing-gown  and  her  dis- 
appointment over  the  pearls,  and  her  luckless  drab 
life,  in  her  pleasure  that  others  should  be  happy, 
they  don't  deserve  any  luck  themselves !  And  any- 
how it  will  keep  grandma  in  good  humour  to  have 
someone  to  poke  fun  at." 

She  herself  came  out  into  the  passage,  hesitated, 
nibbled  her  finger,  and  bent  her  ear  to  listen  at  the 
door  of  the  next  bedroom.  Jane  had  been  quite 
right — packing  was  certainly  in  progress  within. 
There  was  the  rapid  sound  of  steps,  business-like, 
from  drawer  to  trunk,  the  rustle  of  tissue  paper, 
and  the  trotting  heels  again. 


ONENIGHT  359 

Coralie  made  up  her  mind.     She  knocked. 

"  Who  is  there  ?  "  cried  the  widow,  sharply.  And, 
as  if  upon  an  invitation,  the  American  entered. 
Emerald,  some  of  her  yellow  hair  upon  the  dressing- 
table — but  quite  sufficient  of  it  left  hanging  down 
her  back  to  preclude  any  awkwardness  over  the  reve- 
lation to  another  woman — turned  a  tired,  almost 
tragic  face  upon  her  visitor.  She  had  not  washed 
the  rouge  from  her  cheeks ;  and  it  seemed  to  have  con- 
centrated and  deepened,  in  contrast  with  the  pallor 
upon  which  it  lay.  A  second  the  hard  pupils  of  the 
large  irised  eyes  were  fixed  angrily  with  something 
of  that  look  one  may  see  in  the  orbs  of  a  fierce  cat ; 
the  next  moment,  metaphorically  speaking,  Mrs. 
Lancelot  elected  to  purr. 

"  Dearest  Mrs.  Jamieson,  this  is  kind.  Oh,  you 
heard  how  I  have  to  run  away  in  the  morning? 
Isn't  it  sad!  But  you  will  understand,  I  know  you 
will,  all  you  dear  people !  Oh,  dear  Mrs.  Jamieson — 
Coralie — do  let  me  call  you  Coralie — you  are  so 
sweet ;  I  know  you  will  be  glad  for  me !  I'm  not 
going  to  be  lonely  any  more.  My  little  barque  has 
come  to  harbour,"  proceeded  the  lady  with  her  Sibyl- 
line air;  she  lifted  her  head  to  gaze  at  the  cornice; 
the  folds  of  her  white  silk  dressing-gown  fell  dramat- 
ically about  her;  she  stretched  out  her  hand  with  a 
fine  gesture,  to  lay  it,  unseeingly  yet  unerringly, 
upon  a  letter  on  the  table  beside  her. 

"  My  John,"  she  uttered  into  space.  "  I  think 
we  always  cared  for  each  other;  but  fate  came  be- 
tween us,  we  were  divided.  Now,  however "  she 


560 

turned  her  rapt  glance  upon  the  listener;  Coralie 
was  gasping.  "  I  know,"  went  on  the  mellifluous 
tones,  "  that  you  will  all  understand  how,  since  his 
message  is  come,  I  must  run  away  to  meet  him !  Oh, 
just  now,  your  uncle,  Sir  Reginald,  gave  me  such 
sweet  words  of  advice — a  friend  indeed  he  has  always 
been  to  me !  *  You  broke  his  heart  once,'  he  said 
to  me,  '  mend  it  now.'  I'm  going  to  mend  John's 
heart.  And  that  is  why  I  am  running  away." 

Through  a  whole  gamut  of  delicate  emotions  had 
the  widow  artistically  fluttered.  She  was  coy,  she 
was  tender,  she  was  pathetic,  she  was  sprightly. 
Coralie  had  hardly  ever  felt  herself  so  completely 
at  a  loss.  Amazement  was  the  overwhelming  sense 
of  the  moment.  So,  there  was  a  John !  And  "  he  " 
had  been  a  mere  interlude,  a  barrier  between  two 
loving  hearts;  and  man  preux,  at  the  best,  only  a 
distraction,  now  permanently  in  Emerald's  vocabu- 
lary the  friendly  adviser.  She  was  too  bewildered 
to  laugh. 

"  I'm  sure,"  she  said,  "  I'm  vurry  glad  you've  got 
your  old  beau  back,"  and  felt  herself  American  to 
staginess  and  inadequate  to  imbecility,  before  the 
reproachful  upliftedness  of  Mrs.  Lancelot's  eyes. 

"  My  cousin,  John  MacCracken,"  said  the  latter 
with  dignity,  "  was  my  first — do  not  misunderstand 
me  if  I  say  my  only — love.  There  are  tragedies  in 
women's  lives  which  are  best  left  veiled.  I  hope — 
I  think  I  did  my  duty.  Now  the  future  holds  prom- 
ise of  something  else  to  fill  my  heart,  my  empty  heart, 
as  duty  alone  could  not  do.  Oh,  Coralie "  The 


ONE     NIGHT  361 

cry,  piercing  sweet,  was  poised  and  dropped;  brok- 
enly the  widow  took  up  the  note  in  an  admirably 
natural-sounding  burst  of  feeling:  "Wish  me  joy, 
my  dear !  His  letter  came  to-night !  "  and  cast  her- 
self into  the  other's  arms. 

"  Of  course  I  don't  expect  you  to  believe  me," 
said  Mrs.  Jamieson  later  to  her  husband.  She  was 
clad,  in  her  turn,  in  all  the  pretty  laciness  of  a 
neglige;  and,  sitting  before  her  looking-glass,  was 
thoughtfully  brushing  out  strand  after  strand  of 
dark  hair.  (There  were  no  curls  on  her  dressing- 
table.)  "  I  don't  reelly  believe  it  myself,  but  I 
kissed  that  woman.  Yes,  I  did.  And  I  wished  her 
joy;  and  I  meant  it!  And,  when  I  saw  the  tears 
in  her  eyes,  I  felt  mine  just  swim!  Oh,  my!  And 
my  heart  was  quite  stirred  over  the  romance  of 
John  MacCracken — he's  cracknels,  Ernest,  darling; 
you  know  the  awful  posters  of  the  boy  biting,  with 
the  motto  underneath — *  It's  MacCracken's — it's  all 
right ! '  And  he's  rolling,  she  tells  me — so  I  suppose 
it  is  all  right.  *  A  millionaire,  one  of  our  merchant 
princes  ! '  She  breathed  it  casually.  Oh,  my !  She's 
asked  me  to  go  and  stay  with  her  .  .  .  some- 
where in  the  vague  future  when  she  and  John  have 
bought  a  place!  Ernest,"  said  his  wife,  then  drop- 
ping her  brush,  and  flinging  her  crisp  locks  from  her 
face  to  gaze  solemnly  at  him,  "  it's  all  very  comic, 
but  I'm  deeply  glad  that  woman's  going  to  be  out 
of  the  way  by  to-morrow  morning;  for  she's  the 
cleverest  thing  I've  met  in  Europe.  Reelly,  my  poor 


362       DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

Ernest,"  she  proceeded  thoughtfully,  "  if  she'd  set 
her  cap  at  you,  I  don't  know  what  would  have  become 
of  you.  I  doubt,"  she  blinked  pensively,  "  if  I  could 
have  saved  you." 

As  he  broke  into  indignant,  inarticulate  disclaimer 
she  tilted  her  lip  into  smiles,  and  dimpled  and  shook 
her  finger  at  him. 

"  Now,  you  don't  take  me  in  a  bit.  In  your 
heart  you  think  she's  a  poor,  harmless,  gentle,  mis- 
understood little  creature,  and  that  we've  all  be- 
haved brutally  to  her.  Now  you  know  you  do,  and 
you  will,  to  your  dying  day." 

But  Coralie,  however  clogged  her  wits  might  mo- 
mentarily have  been  under  the  web  of  Mrs.  Lance- 
lot's undaunted  spinning,  had  remained  sufficiently 
alert  to  conceal  the  event  of  the  evening  from  her. 
"  She'll  never  fly  to  John  so  early  in  the  morning, 
if  she  can  hang  round  Norah's  neck  and  fawn  on 
Enniscorthy,"  she  thought.  "  Besides,  I'm«not  go- 
ing to  have  the  woman  posing  as  their  providence 
when  she  nearly  parted  them  for  ever." 

So,  after  that  kiss,  surprised  from  her  weakness, 
she  disengaged  herself  from  the  widow's  clinging 
hands ;  murmured  an  inarticulate  and  unfelt  pleasure 
at  the  news  of  Mr.  MacCracken's  wealth;  vaguely 
concurred  in  the  vague  project  of  future  visits, 
and  at  length  took  her  departure,  smiling  and  undu- 
lating, till  the  door  closed  between  them.  Then  she 
thoughtfully  set  her  steps  for  the  dining-room  again, 
reviling  herself  as  she  went. 


ONENIGHT  363 

"  I  reckon  you'd  better  come  down  a  peg  or  two 
in  the  estimation  of  yourself,  Coralie  Jamieson.  I 
reckon  next  time  momma-in-law  looks  at  you  as  if 
you  were  a  worm  you'd  better  just  squirm.  To 
think  you've  smiled  at  her  and  kissed  her,  and  as 
near  as  not  wept  over  her!  .  .  .  Pah!  I'm 
ashamed  of  you !  " 

"  If  you  ask  me,"  Lady  Enniscorthy  was  saying 
as  her  granddaughter-in-law  slipped  pensively  into 
the  room,  "  I  think  Jane  has  had  quite  enough  cham- 
pagne." 


IX 

GERTRUDE  was  anxious  to  get  her  mother  to  bed. 
She  had  repeatedly  told  Norah  to  retire  to  hers. 
But  grandmother  and  granddaughter  were  chatter- 
ing to  each  other  like  a  pair  of  children.  And,  of 
the  two,  the  Dowager's  eyes  were  the  brighter,  and 
her  fine  old  face  showed  less  traces  of  fatigue  than 
did  the  girlish  features.  But  then  she  had  been 
only  a  spectator,  while  Norah  had  just  been  living 
through  the  crucial  night  of  her  life. 

"  Presently,  presently,  Gertrude !  "  said  Lady  En- 
niscorthy,  in  good-humoured  but  warning  parenthe- 
sis. "  No,  my  dear,  I  won't  have  you  come  Florence 
over  me.  And  I  think  you  might  leave  the  child  a 
few  minutes  longer — I'll  give  you  your  bridal  lace, 
Norah.  The  wedding  shall  be  from  Park  Lane. 
You  puss,  you  little  puss !  To  think  of  your  spring- 
ing this  on  us ! "  She  shook  in  gleeful  laughter, 
and  tied  the  strings  of  her  pretty  night-cap  under 
her  determined  chin.  "Well,  the  Lord  is  good  to 
me,"  she  cried,  then,  suddenly  grave  again :  "  He 
denied  me  a  son  of  my  own,  but  he's  making  it  up 
to  me  now.  We've  kept  Enniscorthy  in  the  family, 
Gertrude." 

Norah,  squatting  at  her  grandmother's  feet,  gave 
an  almost  imperceptible  toss  of  her  head. 

"  No  thanks  to  mamma ! "  she  said,  from  the 
36* 


ONENIGHT  365 

height  of  her  new  importance  and  arrogant  happi- 
ness. "  She  did  her  best  against  it — she  very  nearly 
spoilt  it  all." 

Gertrude,  standing  behind  the  Dowager's  chair — 
she  had  been  ministering  to  her  in  the  place  of  the 
maid  dismissed  to  her  slumbers — looked  down  at 
her  daughter  sadly  and  indulgently. 

"  I  tried  to  do  my  best  for  you,"  she  said  in  a  low 
voice. 

She  felt  humbled,  in  her  great  thankfulness.  She 
had  been  endeavouring  to  guide  events;  had  diplo- 
matised, had  schemed ;  and,  that  success  should  have 
come  to  all  her  efforts,  seemed  to  her,  this  night,  the 
merciful  dispensation  of  Providence  rather  than  her 
own  work,  for  she  had  led  the  boat  which  contained 
all  her  treasures  into  dangerous  waters. 

"  You  bet !  "  said  Coralie  suddenly  from  the  corner 
of  the  sofa,  where  she  sat,  her  arm  round  Jane's  flat 
waist.  They  were  having  a  thrilling  talk  on  the 
subject  of  Caractacus.  She  sprang  up  and  came  for- 
ward. "  You  bet  if  it  wasn't  for  your  mother  you'd 
be  weeping  for  your  beau,  this  very  night,  Norah. 
You  bet,  if  it  had  not  been  for  your  mother  giving  up 
everything  for  you — you'd  have  been  at  school  still, 
young  lady;  precious  few  opportunities  you'd  have 
had  then,  of  meeting  Enniscorthy.  And  if  your 
mother  had  let  you  go  on  scouring  the  country  with 
him,  and  making  yourself  cheap — yes,  I  will  speak, 
Gertrude! — the  chances  are  you'd  never  have  been 
anything  to  him  but  his  silly  little  fool  of  a  playmate, 
and  he'd  have  proposed  to  somebody  else.  Oh,  you 


366       DIAMONDS     CUT    PASTE 

may  smile  as  scornfully  as  you  please,  but  it's  been 
touch  and  go,  I  can  tell  you,  and  if  you  had  not  had 

such  a  mother  .  .  .  and  other  good  friends " 

She  broke  off  on  the  recollection  of  her  own  services ; 
she  was  not  going  to  speak  about  them.  Sarcastic- 
ally she  concluded :  "  Although  you  are  nearly 
eighteen,  you  have  not  got  all  the  world's  wisdom 
in  your  head  yet.  And  to  rush  into  a  young  man's 
arms  isn't  always  the  best  way  to  make  sure  of  him. 
It  never  dawned  upon  you,  I  suppose,  that  your 
mother " 

"  Hoity-toity !  "  interrupted  the  Dowager.  "  Stars 
and  stripes,  with  a  vengeance ! " 

But  her  eyes  twinkled.  She  suddenly  put  out  her 
hand  to  Gertrude. 

"  My  dear,"  she  said,  with  an  odd  little  shake  in 
her  voice,  "  I  don't  think  anyone,  not  even  this  un- 
fortunate young  person,  can  accuse  you  of  being  a 
bad  mother." 

Gertrude  knelt  to  kiss  her. 

"  I'm  afraid  I've  not  always  been  a  wise  one,"  she 
murmured. 

"  Wa'll,  grandma,"  said  the  American,  blinking 
away  an  inconvenient  moisture  that  had  gathered 
between  her  eyelashes  and  assuming  her  most  unnat- 
ural twang,  "  if  you'll  let  me  say  it,  I  honour  you. 
It's  like  you  to  own  up. — Aunt  G.  has  proved  her- 
self pretty  right,  all  along  the  line,  hasn't  she?  Oh, 
my,  and  she's  been  more  right  than  you're  aware  of — 
I've  been  just  burning  to  give  you  the  news,  but 
you've  all  been  so  wrapped  up  in  Norah  and  her  lit- 


ONENIGHT  367 

tie  affairs.  Granma,  Aunt  G.,  listen ;  Mrs.  Lance- 
lot's packing,  and  she's  off  at  cockcrow,  or  there- 
abouts. And  she's  going  to  marry  Mr.  John  Mac- 
Cracken.  And  his  estate  is  ...  at  Paisley,  till 
they  buy  a  new  one.  Oh,  I  say,  granma,  what  about 
the  tiara?" 

"  Upon  my  word !  "  said  Lady  Enniscorthy. 

"  Oh,  dear  mamma,"  said  Gertrude  absently, 
"  don't  you  think  we've  all  made  too  much  fuss  about 
that  poor  foolish  little  woman?" 

Her  heart  was  yearning  to  her  child,  who  was 
hanging  her  head  and  sulking,  but  whose  heart  she 
knew.  "  She's  sorry  already,"  the  mother  was  think- 
ing. "  She  did  not  mean  to  be  ungrateful,  she  did 
not  understand.  And  I  shall  never  be  able  to  ex- 
plain to  her.  For  her  way  is  straight  to  the  point, 
and  I  chose  the  circuitous  path." 

"  Gertrude,  don't  be  a  humbug.  I'm  a  woman  of 
my  word.  Yes,  Coralie,  I  have  brought  the  tiara. 
You'll  find  the  key  of  my  trunk  on  my  dressing-table ; 
the  box  is  under  the  tray." 

"  Oh,  is  Gertrude  to  have  the  tiara  ?  "  cried  Jane. 
She  came  up  from  her  corner  and  stood  hugging 
herself  and  looking  wistfully  at  her  mother.  "  I'm 
very  glad.  I  always  wanted  Gertrude  to  have  it — • 
if  I  didn't,"  said  the  guileless  creature. 

She  gave  a  pull  at  her  tinsel  wreath  that  set  it  at 
an  equally  forlorn  angle  on  the  opposite  side  of  her 
head. 

Solemnly  the  dowager  took  the  case  which  Coralie 


368        DIAMONDS     CUT     PASTE 

unwrapped  and  laid  on  her  knee;  and  solemnly  she 
pressed  the  spring,  exposing  the  glories  of  its  con- 
tents. Then,  with  her  own  determined  little  hands, 
she  lifted  the  crown  from  its  socket. 

"  There,  my  dear,  you  have  honestly  gained  it,  and 
I'm  very  glad  I  can  give  it  you  with  a  clear  con- 
science." 

"  Is  it  mine?  "  said  Gertrude,  as  she  took  almost 
reverently  into  her  hands  this  symbol  of  her  mother's 
happy  days  and  her  father's  great  love  for  her. 
"  Can  I  do  with  it  what  I  like?  " 

"  Of  course  you  can,"  retorted  the  old  lady,  not 
quite  pleased.  "  You  won't  want  to  sell  it,  I  pre- 
sume? It's  an  heirloom  now." 

"  Then,  dear  mamma,  let  it  be  your  and  my  gift — 
our  wedding  gift  to  Norah." 

Bending,  as  she  spoke,  she  laid  the  diadem  upon 
the  girl's  fair  head,  which  still  rested  against  the 
grandmother's  knee. 

"  Oh,  mamma,  mamma !  "  Norah  sprang  up,  and 
flung  the  crown  unceremoniously  into  the  dowager's 
lap  that  she  might  let  herself  fall  into  her  mother's 
arms.  "  Oh,  mammy ! "  she  cried  again,  clinging  to 
her,  and  burst  into  tears. 

"  It's  been  diamonds  cut  paste  all  through,"  said 
Coralie,  swallowing  a  lump  in  her  throat. 

There  was  a  discreet  knock  at  the  door.  Fraulein, 
still  in  the  gala  silk,  with  the  festoon  collar  and  the 
blue  bow,  presented  herself,  her  face  wreathed  in 
smiles,  withal  a  most  weary-looking  little  woman. 


ONENIGHT  369 

"  I  haf  thought  that  my  lady's  hot  bottle  might 
haf  been  forgotten,"  she  ventured,  producing  in 
triumphant  unselfishness  her  own  scarlet- jacketed 
comforter.  It  was  new,  and  diffused  ai  pungent 
odour  of  rubber. 

"  I? "  cried  the  dowager  with  good-humoured 
scorn,  "  I  never  indulged  in  anything  like  that  in 
my  life.  Much  obliged  to  you,  all  the  same,"  she 
added  graciously.  "  Come  in,  come  in ;  we've  got 
something  to  show  you.  Gertrude,  put  the  thing  on 
the  child's  head.  Now,  Fraulein,  what  do  you  think 
of  that?" 

Fraulein  gasped,  let  her  odoriferous  burden  drop, 
and  ejaculated  in  shrill  and  broken  tones  of  ecstacy : 

"  Ach  du,  mem  Gott   .   .    .    our  little  Countess !  " 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 
405  Hilgard  Avenue,  Los  Angeles,  CA  90024-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library 
from  which  it  was  borrowed. 

NON-RENEWABLE 

~3.t-L  -  tt®-<- 


DUE  2  WKS  FROM  DATE  RECEIVED 


L 


Univen 

Soul 

Lit 


